


Musica Instrumentalis

by starandrea



Series: Sky Verse [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-19
Updated: 2011-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-17 02:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starandrea/pseuds/starandrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel is reluctantly but sort of hopelessly crushing on Sam, Michael is forgetting what it means to be Dean, and Castiel is more powerful than he realizes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Musica Instrumentalis

It was dry enough that the pine needles made a soft crunching sound under his feet when he shifted, and the air was warmer than usual for late spring.  The sun was bright through young leaves, glittering slantwise off the still-cool lake.  Sam looked like he was pretending summer had come early: long legs and bare feet stretched out across the blanket while he stared down at his laptop, the screen turned all the way up in the dappled light.

He had a heavy denim jacket between him and the rock he was leaning against, though, and the childish screams that echoed off the water were buoyed by cold-fueled adrenaline.  Sam mostly ignored them.  He must be researching something.  Sam rarely read for pleasure, he clearly wasn’t typing, and he checked his e-mail from his phone.  So whatever was holding his attention had to be important enough that it traveled with him, but not interesting enough to call off a day with the kids.

Gabriel leaned against a nearby tree, invisible to human senses and unmoving when Sam lifted his head.  The screaming had taken on a different note before trailing off entirely, and voices were approaching from the shore.  Gabriel watched, dispassionate, as a woman in short sleeves and cutoffs deposited a dripping wet boy on the blanket beside Sam.

“Band-aid,” she said succinctly, and the boy stuck his foot out in Sam’s general direction.

“Uh, right.”  Sam closed his laptop before he set it aside.  He caught her eye above the boy’s head and Gabriel saw her roll her eyes.  The kid couldn’t see it but it made Sam smile, putting the boy’s ankle on his lap and tugging the backpack with the first aid kit closer.  “Where’s the band-aid gonna go?”

“I cut my foot,” the boy insisted.  Both feet were whole and healthy, but he wiggled the one in Sam’s lap imperiously.  “Right there.  See?”

“Yeah,” the woman said, falling back on the blanket beside them.  She threw her free arm over her face, but the other remained against the boy’s back, propping him up while Sam peeled a band-aid open.  “He doesn’t see it because there’s nothing there, kiddo.”

“There was!” the boy exclaimed.  “I cut my foot!”

“That’s too bad,” Sam told him, steadying his ankle with one hand while he inspected the foot more carefully.  “Did it hurt?”

“Yes,” the boy said defiantly.  “But now it doesn’t.  Can you put the band-aid on top of my foot so it doesn’t fall off right away?”

“Here?” Sam asked, holding the band-aid over his toes.

“Up,” the boy said, pushing his foot forward.  Sam moved the band-aid closer to his ankle, and the boy squirmed.  “Right there!”

“Okay,” Sam said.  He let go of the kid to press the band-aid down over unbroken skin, and the boy was on his feet before Sam had finished.  “There you go,” Sam said, but it was drowned out by the boy’s rapid-fire “thank you” and yelling as he ran back the way he’d come.

“I got a band-aid!” he shouted toward the water.

“I found a leech!” a girl’s voice yelled back.

“No fair!”  The boy sounded outraged that he’d missed this adventure.  “I want to see!”

Gabriel watched Sam pitch forward, his head resting on the woman’s stomach while his shoulders shook silently.  She didn’t move, but her lips curved into a smile when Sam mumbled, “They’re normal in all the weirdest ways.”

He was laughing, Gabriel realized.  Sam was bent double on a crumpled blanket, face buried in a t-shirt with an eagle and a conservation slogan silk-screened onto it, laughing at his ridiculous human children.  Gabriel could feel his grace twisting, stretching, and it was stupid because they weren’t even his.  Not his soldiers, not his garrison... not his responsibility.

“Jesus,” Dean’s voice said from behind him.  “What are you, stalking him now?”

Gabriel didn’t bother turning around.  “Takes one to know one.”

There was no reply, and he got that this wouldn’t be enough for Michael.  His precious Sam, his little Lucifer substitute, deserved nothing less than absolute protection.  No matter what it took or who he had to hurt.

“Look,” Gabriel grumbled, watching the woman Sam was lying on free her arm and ruffle his hair affectionately.  “I’m lonely, all right.  What’s your excuse?”

“I’m forgetting,” Michael said grimly.

He wished that admission didn’t make him feel anything.  He wished he didn’t care.  Because Michael had done this to himself: Michael had abandoned them for earth, Michael had fallen all the way to hell.  Michael might still be there if Dean Winchester’s stupid human soul hadn’t wormed its way into Castiel’s consciousness, crying for his brother, settling for the nearest angel, clinging and stubborn and in the end a little too human to die.

And so Castiel had saved him.  Over and over again.  Because it turned out that Castiel was a little too human not to love.

Gabriel wasn’t about to lose him to an archangel who couldn’t remember why that mattered.

“Don’t,” he said aloud.  “Don’t forget, Dean-o, or you and I?  We’re on opposite sides forever.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Dean snapped.  “I’m not stupid.  I know what’s at stake.  I just didn’t know it would be this fucking hard.”

“Oh, poor you,” Gabriel sneered, eyes still fixed on Sam.  He’d flopped over on his back, now, shoulder to shoulder with the woman beside him.  Sam was holding her hand, playing with her fingers while their clasped hands rested on his chest.  “Angel brain, human body.  Like you’re the first.  Suck it up.”

“Yeah, great track record we have.”  Dean sounded sharp and bitter and more than a little afraid.  “You, Anna... Cas.  None of you are great role models for the human-heaven balancing act.”

“Screw heaven,” Gabriel said, watching Sam lift those fingers to his mouth and kiss them.  “You chose earth for a reason.”

“Because we need earth,” Dean told him.  Maybe it was Michael talking now.

“We need you,” Gabriel said, keeping his voice even and inscrutable while he remembered every reason Michael couldn’t kill him.  He had to stay alive if he was going to protect anyone else.  “Dad didn’t let you go so you could bring heaven here.  You were supposed to stay for that.  Armageddon, apocalypse, all that jazz.”

“I went to hell for that,” Michael said.  “I let Lucifer out.  What was it all for if not to bring the reckoning?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you want it to have some kind of _meaning_?” Gabriel demanded.  “Why don’t you ask Cas; I think Lifetime movies are his specialty.”

“I can’t.”  Michael’s reply was quiet.  It was also stupidly, self-sacrificingly Dean-like.  “I can’t scare him with this.”

“Wait, you haven’t _told_ him?”  If the woman beside Sam wasn’t sitting up, saying something about the kids – and who did that, who pulled away from that – he would have turned to stare at Dean.  “Are you mentally damaged?  Castiel can _help_ you.”

“Even Cas can’t do everything,” Dean said.  “He’s holding the rebel garrisons together with spit and chewing gum, and if I distract him –”

“If you lose your humanity, Castiel will destroy everything you think he’s building,” Gabriel said bluntly.  “He’ll tear this planet apart.  If you can’t see that, then it’s already too late.”

There was no answer.

The woman inexplicably walking away from Sam was saying, “It’s our fault, you know, we made them dumb.”

“Nah,” Sam said.  “I’m sure we can blame culture and society for some of it.  Hey, Gabriel,” he added, when she just kept walking.

She turned, brown hair loose over her shoulders.  That cheesy eagle t-shirt was someone’s school project, he just knew it.  “What?  You want to rewrite western civilization, turn public education around?  I can do that.”

“I was thinking just give Maia a band-aid too,” Sam said, tossing her the box.  “Faster, better, cheaper.”

She scoffed.  “Pick two.”

She took a band-aid with her when she went, of course, and Gabriel stifled the irrational urge to call her back.  Sam was smiling when he reached for his laptop again, so whatever.  He could see Sam staring at his computer anytime.

Plus or minus the smile.

When he finally tore his gaze away, Michael was gone.  Gabriel muttered a curse because it was vaguely satisfying.  A moment later, the pine needles where he’d been standing were undisturbed.  

The same could not be said for the Roadhouse.  The chaos wasn’t unusual, and he couldn’t feel Michael anywhere on the premises.  He wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad, but right now, he had bigger problems.  Namely, the fact that the entire first floor reeked of vervain.

“Sam,” he said irritably.  “Where are you.”

“He’s in the barn,” Aramel reported.  Because not only was Sam not an angel, but he was also largely immune to psychic intrusion, which meant Gabriel could never just _ask_ him things.  Not that he needed to or anything.

Except when he did.

“Does he know why there’s verbena all over the place?” Gabriel demanded.  The general summons would have reached Sam, at least, but it would still take him time to walk from one place to another.

“Likely,” Aramel said.  “The kids made wreaths at school today.”

Gabriel had never hated kindergarten more than he did at that moment.  Which was saying something, really, but right now it didn’t matter what.  He just needed to get out of this building.

“Sam,” he said, appearing next to the younger Winchester just as he stepped out of the barn.  Could he have moved any slower?  What, had he taken the time to say goodbye to everyone in the place before he left?

“Yes, what,” Sam snapped.  “I’m coming; what do you want?”

“The kids made wreaths,” Gabriel said.

“Well, I think the teacher made them,” Sam said, frowning.  “But the kids decorated them.  Why?”

“They have vervain in them,” Gabriel said.

“Yeah, Rebecca’s kind of a...”  Sam trailed off.  It was clear the moment he got it.  “They don’t have vervain _in_ them,” he said, staring at Gabriel.  “They’re made of vervain.  Is that a problem?”

“Only if you’re not planning to consecrate a sacrificial altar,” Gabriel said.  “Let’s just say, if you could clear out that smell?  A less bloody afternoon would be had by all.”

“On it,” Sam agreed immediately.  “Trade you.  Samael wants to talk to one of us – formally, or something.  It sounded like an angel thing.”

“Well,” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes.  “I guess I’m the closest we’ve got.”

“Hey,” Sam said, still studying him.  “What is that, anyway?  I mean – the verbena, or whatever.  Leftover magic?  Pagan conditioning?”

Gabriel was already scouring Australia for threat and coming up empty.  “Maybe I just don’t like flowers,” he said.

The one advantage of Sam not being an angel was that Gabriel did get to have the last word a lot.

Australia was considerably more boring today than it had been the last time someone called him here, and he almost told Samael so when he saw her.  But she was pissed about something, and Michael wasn’t there.  Michael wasn’t anywhere.

 _Where’s the big man?_ he asked Anael.

 _I thought he was with you,_ she answered.

By “you” he understood her to mean Castiel.  Michael’s tendency to fall off the map was a source of constant chagrin, which meant that usually Gabriel approved of it whole-heartedly.  Except in that it affected him too, which he tried not to think about.  But Cas was allowed to pull Michael’s voice from the choir whenever he felt like it – mostly because no one could stop him, and they were all a little afraid of what would happen if someone tried.

 _Maybe,_ he thought, and it was stupid that he had to admit he didn’t even know if Michael was at his own garrison or not.

He got in another thirty seconds of annoying Samael before he heard Sam’s prayer.

 _Dearest Gabriel,_ Sam thought, which was how a lot of Sam’s prayers started lately.  _Wherefore art thou so incredibly stupid_ – also a common opener – _and when will you admit that not having a cell doesn’t bother any of us half as much as it bothers you.  Just buy a damn Go Phone already._

 _Thanks a lot,_ Gabriel told Anael.

 _I don’t know what you’re talking about,_ she replied.

 _Anna says you’re looking for Dean,_ Sam continued, and Gabriel took it back.  He never got the last word like this, because Sam couldn’t _hear_ him.  And he couldn’t avoid hearing Sam.

 _He’s not here,_ Sam was saying, _but neither is Cas, so odds are they’ve holed up somewhere to pretend they’re human for a while.  I’m not calling them because Cas might pick up, but tell Anna if it’s important and she can let me know.  Since you don’t have a phone._

Gabriel waited for the “amen,” but none was forthcoming.  Sam must have gotten distracted by someone else.

Anael, probably.

 _Mind your own business,_ he told her.  _If it was important I’d have found him already._

 _So what do you need him for?_ she wanted to know.  _And why is he gone again?  The whole disappearing act is creepy._   She stopped short of wishing Cas wouldn’t do it, even privately, but it wasn’t like Gabriel didn’t know.

 _Tell me about it,_ Gabriel agreed.  _He took my favorite hammer and now the jerk isn’t even taking my calls._

“Look,” he told Samael.  “The short answer is no, and the long answer is no way on earth.  Lucifer’s allowed in our garrison because Sam Winchester needed someone to drive his kid to school.  He’s allowed in yours because you think grey wings are sexy.  But Anael’s got another opinion, and Brother Number One walks the streets of heaven on Michael’s say-so.  No one else’s.  Lucifer isn’t forgiven, he isn’t trustworthy, and he sure ain’t at the top of my ‘rehire’ list, if you see where I’m going with this.”

“And what of you, Gabriel?” Samael demanded.  “Whose favor did you court that you’re welcomed back with open arms?”

He shrugged.  “Life’s a bitch.  We done here?”

“I heard Sam Winchester spoke for you when no one else would,” Samael said.  “I heard he kept you on when Michael wanted to throw you to the demons.  In fact, if anyone’s a bitch around here –”

“Leave Sam out of this,” he snarled.  His sword was in his hand before he spoke, before he thought, and Samael did nothing but raise an eyebrow at his little hissy fit.

“It’s not his loyalty I question,” she said.  “It’s yours.  Nonetheless I accept your position, your ongoing authority as the second oldest archangel on earth, because others have vouched for you.  Will you not allow me to vouch for our brother?”

“No,” Gabriel said.  “I won’t, and you know why not?  Because I don’t like you.  Right now I don’t really like anyone, though, so don’t think you’re special.”

He appeared outside Anael’s garrison without announcing himself.  He could hear Samael broadcasting her condemnation to the choir, which might have gotten Michael’s attention if he’d been listening.  Gabriel had to smile.  Turned out there was an upside to every down after all.

“Jophiel,” he said aloud.  “Come here.”

Anael’s response was immediate.  _Why are you summoning my angels, Gabriel._

 _Message from Sam,_ he replied.  _He sent cookies for Wildfire._

Jophiel was there a moment later, frowning suspiciously at him even as her wings folded back.  “What do you want?”

“We need to talk to you,” Gabriel said.  “It’s about Castiel.”

Her expression didn’t lighten, but she nodded once.

When they were standing somewhere relatively remote – not hard, in Montana, to find a place they’d be able to see angels coming a mile away – she asked, “Where’s Sam?”

“Not here,” Gabriel said.  “I didn’t think you’d come if I said it was just me.  Here’s the thing: Cas is in trouble and he doesn’t know it.  Now, you wanna scream for Anael?  Or can I tell you what’s going on?”

“You think Michael’s resurgence threatens Castiel,” Jophiel said.

Gabriel paused, looking at her more carefully.

Jophiel folded her arms.  “You’re not the first to have this thought,” she said.  “Why are you only now concerned enough to approach his friends?”

“Because as long as Dean was all, ‘screw you, I’d never hurt Cas,’ I mostly believed him,” Gabriel retorted.  “The kid’s a numbskull, but he’s stubborn as all hell.”

Jophiel’s tone sharpened.  “Is he no longer saying these things?”

“He doesn’t remember he’s Dean,” Gabriel said.  “On and off, anyway; he says he’s forgetting.  Don’t tell the choir.  They’ll probably be happy about it.”

“You said this would happen.”  Jophiel sounded like she was talking to herself.  “You did warn Castiel.”

“Well, Dean said it wouldn’t,” Gabriel said.  “Guess which one of us Cas believed.”

“What can we do?” she asked.

He rolled his eyes.  “Hello, if I knew that, don’t you think I’d have done it already?  You’re his friend.  You think of something.  I’m gonna go keep an eye on Michael.”

Because he could.  At the end of the day, there were only so many places to hide.  Castiel might be able to make them invisible to the choir, but the trade-off was that they were that much easier to sneak up on.  Especially when they weren’t paying one damn bit of attention to their surroundings.

“Red is fine,” Dean was saying.  “Red is A-OK with me.”

“Thirty-seven seconds ago you were expounding upon the tackiness of red,” Castiel said.

“That was before you mentioned purple,” Dean countered.  “Now I’m all about red.  I think red is great.”

“Sam wears purple,” Castiel pointed out.

“Sam thinks indie music is for lovers,” Dean said.  “Clearly, some of the finer points of being human escape him.”

Mesa Verde.  Why they thought sitting out on top of a sun-drenched cliff, fifty miles to the horizon in any direction, somehow constituted “hiding” he had no idea.  Except that clearly it was working for them, so they just kept doing it.  He supposed it was better than their tropical island getaway.

“I would ask you what indie music is,” Castiel said, “but I know that you would tell me, probably to the exclusion of whatever else you thought was so important that we had to disassociate from the choir and risk chaos with our unscheduled absence.  Tell me what couldn’t wait until tonight.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.  Well, look at Castiel, finally grasping a fundamental principle of social interaction.  Too bad the stupid hope that Dean just wanted to see him had to pop up.  Nothing like crushed hope to make a confession harder.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you,” Dean said.  “You ever think of that?”

Crushed, Gabriel thought.

“When you just want to see me,” Castiel said evenly, “we don’t come here.”

“Okay, look,” Dean said.  “Don’t freak out.  The whole Michael thing – it’s a little harder than I thought.”

Huh, Gabriel thought.  He was actually going to tell him.  That was more maturity than he’d expected from either of them, really.  Probably some kind of misunderstanding.

“Say it,” Castiel said.  “Just say it.”

“Sometimes I can’t remember why I wanted to be human,” Dean blurted out.

“Cherry pie,” Castiel said immediately.

Gabriel could see Dean smiling from where he was, but Castiel wasn’t done.

“Ice cream cakes,” he continued.  “Coffee with chocolate and whipped cream.  Hard apple cider.  Whiskey.  Drinking around a bonfire.”

Dean laughed, fond and happy.  “Sex,” he said, like it didn’t mean anything.  Like it was an ongoing private joke that Castiel had finally gotten right.

Castiel didn’t smile.  “Sex,” he repeated.  Like he was about to pin Dean down, right here, and remind him.

Dean glanced at him.  His amusement faded under Castiel’s intent stare.

“What else have you forgotten?” Castiel wanted to know.

And Dean wasn’t as stupid as he looked, because he got it.  “Not you,” he said quietly.  “Never you, Cas.”

“Sam?” Castiel pressed.  “You used to see his children when you got confused.  Doesn’t that help anymore?”

“I can’t forget Sam,” Dean said.  “He’s important.”

Gabriel looked up, but Castiel had heard it too: _no._

“But you do,” Castiel said.  “You do, sometimes.  You’re forgetting all of us.”

“Not you,” Dean insisted.  “You’re always there, Cas.  You’re always –”  He held up his hand in front of his face, almost touching his nose.  “Right here, seriously.  Can’t avoid you.”

Castiel’s expression didn’t change.  “Because I’m an angel,” he said.  “You’re always aware of me.”

Dean didn’t answer.

“Dean,” Castiel said.  “The host of heaven considers me a threat to you.”

Dean snorted.  “Yeah, well, the host of heaven gave Zachariah a garrison.  Figure that one out.”

“You gave me permission,” Castiel said slowly, “to do whatever I had to do to make sure... to keep you – so you live out your life as Dean.”

Gabriel considered that.  “Whatever he had to do” could potentially cover quite a lot of ground.  Especially coming from Castiel, whose recent and indisputable powers of creation could carry a coup of heaven itself if he decided he wanted to rule.  He clearly didn’t.  But it wasn’t like he’d have to call in any favors to make the angels do whatever he wanted.

“Anything,” Castiel repeated.  “You said I could do anything, Dean.”

“Because I know you,” Dean said, shrugging off the danger.  “You won’t do anything stupid.”

“Of course I will,” Castiel snapped.  He twisted the way he did when he was flying, swinging a leg over Dean’s lap and forcing himself right up into Dean’s face.  “Every stupid thing I’ve ever done has been for you.  I have no judgment where you’re concerned.”

Dean’s hands were on his hips, steadying him.  Holding him close enough to kiss.  And Castiel let him, wings uncurling slowly, bright and smooth and unmistakably soothed by Michael’s presence.  By the grace Dean carried, willingly or not.  They were _angels_ , no matter Dean’s demands to the contrary or Castiel’s charming interspecies kink.

“Thank you,” Castiel whispered.  He was rubbing himself shamelessly against Dean, and Gabriel kind of wanted to applaud.  Castiel had finally learned some valuable life skills: initiative, persistence, seduction.  All three together?  Winning combination.  Clearly.

“For what?” Dean asked roughly.  It wasn’t like he was protesting.

“For telling me,” Castiel murmured.  He was pressing Dean back against a rock that hadn’t been there before.  A rock that was improbably smooth, curving under Dean like it had been made for him while Castiel’s hands pushed Michael’s wings into it.  “You always try to do things yourself.  And you knew I’d be upset.  Thank you for telling me anyway.”

Dean groaned, wings softening the stone behind his head as the rest of him arched into Castiel.  “Fuck, Cas –”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.  Castiel wasn’t relying on human sensation.  His grace was lighting up answering pathways beneath Dean’s skin, and really, how did they do that thing with their hands and their wings?  The kids did it too, albeit with much more innocent effect: their human forms and their angelic grace merged so far that they could – and did – push each other around with their wings.

Dean was swearing again, obviously aroused by the feeling, squirming under Castiel like he thought this was going somewhere.  Like he thought Castiel was going to get him off on the top of a deserted cliff in the cold and the sun.  And, okay, not the worst choice, Gabriel decided.  But if all Castiel had to do was sit on top of him and push at his wings, he was easier than he looked.

“What are you doing to me,” Dean whispered, wings splayed, eyes closed as his grace surged against Castiel’s.

“Reminding you,” Castiel said.  He leaned in to to kiss instead of pushing harder: kissing Dean’s mouth, his neck, his... wing.

How did they _do_ that?  Gabriel watched, fascinated, while Castiel buried his face in the bright and totally intangible light of Michael’s wing.  Had they done this before?  How come he didn’t know about it?  Could other angels make their grace respond to human forms like that?

 _Dearest Gabriel,_ Sam thought, and he was there before he thought.  Like he had to think.  Except that when he did, he realized he was standing almost on top of Sam.  Staring up at him, wings curving possessively until his stupid human understanding caught up with him and he shoved them back.

Sam didn’t so much as flinch.  “Hey,” he said, and if the only sign of his surprise was that his voice was a little softer than usual, Gabriel wasn’t going to argue.  “I was just – are you okay?”

Gabriel snorted, turning away before he realized he was in Sam’s room.  Sam was still in the doorway, as though he’d only just opened the door when he remembered something he couldn’t wait to annoy Gabriel with.  “Peachy,” Gabriel said.  “What do you want.”

“Dinner,” Sam said.  “Eventually.  You want to eat?  Say around six?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why he’d want to do that.  Instead what came out was, “Sammy, are you asking me out?”  Because he was either smarter or much, much stupider than he’d realized.

“Yeah,” Sam said, eyeing him.  “Obviously.”

Stupider.  Which was the only explanation he had for the way he stared at Sam for all of a second and a half without speaking.  And Sam, damn him, knew exactly how long that was for an archangel.

“What?” Sam asked.  “How long does it take to come up with a witty rejoinder?  Come on, Gabriel, you’re losing your touch.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Gabriel said.  Like food mattered.  “You can’t touch my wings, right?”

Sam gave him an odd look.  “Is that a condition?”

“Of what?” Gabriel asked, before he realized that Sam was still stuck on the dinner thing.  “Of course not; it’s a question.  The kids do it all the time.  It’s weird.”

Sam shrugged.  “I can touch Castiel’s.  Does that count?”

Gabriel bristled, and he could tell Sam noticed.  “What are you touching his wings for?” he demanded.

Sam rolled his eyes.  “None of your business,” he said, like he was trying not to smile.  Trying and failing miserably.  “Why?”

“Because it’s weird,” Gabriel snapped.  “Why else?”

“C’mere,” Sam said with a sigh.

If anyone had asked Gabriel why he obeyed, he would have told them to shut up.  It was what he told himself when Sam’s hand – of course – ghosted through the space where his wings would be.  _Shut up,_ he thought fiercely, because he was a fucking archangel and humans were stupid.  Like he cared.

“Huh,” Sam said.  “Can you feel that?”

Gabriel twitched his wing back and glared at him.  “Do you have any idea what you’re asking me to do?”

Sam raised his eyebrows, losing the battle with his smile for a second time.  “Is it inappropriate?”

He didn’t know when Sam had decided to graduate from flippant, inattentive flirting to deliberate insinuation, but Gabriel would have liked it if he’d been in a better mood.  He didn’t want to discourage him, but he also didn’t want heaven to overrun earth.  So far no one had cared what he thought.

“Wow,” Sam said.  “The messenger of God, speechless.  I’m flattered.  And also, I can feel your wings.  Not as much as Castiel’s, but you’re all... cold.  Sharp.  You can’t tell?”

“You can’t feel them,” Gabriel snapped.  “You walk through them all the time.”

“Oh, does that bother you?”  Sam looked positively amused.  “How can you tell if you don’t feel it?”

“Why do you think it’s funny?” Gabriel demanded.  “Do you know how easy it would be to destroy this whole stupid town?  I could do it by accident.  Maybe I’ve already done it, and I put it back and made you all forget.  Maybe I didn’t put it back and you’re dead and this is your heaven.  How would you know?”

Sam reached for his other wing, fingers sliding through it before Gabriel could pull it back.

Before he did pull it back, anyway.

“Really?” Sam asked, looking at his hand.  “Why cold?  The kids say you feel warm.”

“The kids don’t know what they’re talking about,” Gabriel said sharply.  “They think grace feels warm.”  He would have expounded on their limited vocabulary if the realization that Sam knew they were wrong hadn’t hit him so hard.

Sam knew he was cold.

Sam _could_ feel his wings.

“Lucifer’s wings aren’t cold,” Sam said, frowning.  “Is that a hell thing?”

Gabriel closed his eyes, trying to remember that he had yet to find anything that made Sam communicate better.  And he’d tried a lot of things.  “Why,” he said, through gritted teeth, “are you touching _Lucifer’s_ wings?”

“I didn’t,” Sam said.  He sounded... nonplussed, and Gabriel really wished he could read Sam’s mind.  Because he was pretty sure Sam didn’t like the idea of touching Lucifer’s wings.  “He pushed me with them.  It was a... thing,” he finished awkwardly.

“He pushed you,” Gabriel repeated.  He was two seconds and one wrong word from dragging Michael out of his happy place and forcing him to deal with Lucifer _right now._   “Why.  Did he push you.”

“It was a thing,” Sam said again.  “It doesn’t matter; it wasn’t... he wasn’t wrong.  It was fine.”

“Sam,” Gabriel growled.  “Lucifer is the devil.  You are the devil’s vessel.  Tell me why he pushed you or I’m making Michael smite him.  Yesterday.”

“Did you find him?” Sam asked.  “Dean?  Where is he?”

“Are you deliberately trying to make me angry!” Gabriel exclaimed.  “Bad things happen when I get angry, Sam!  Really bad things!”

Sam was smiling again, but it was rueful and not at all mocking and he looked like he might laugh if someone told him it was okay.  “I’m not trying to make you angry,” he said.  “I just think you’re kind of funny when you’re in a pissy mood, and it’s not like I have any idea how to help, so.”  He gestured like the conclusion was right there.

“I’m not funny when I’m in a pissy mood.”  Gabriel scowled.  “I’m filled with righteous anger.”

Sam’s smile widened, and Gabriel tipped his head in acknowledgment.  “Okay, not righteous.  Unrighteous anger.  But still anger.  Very dangerous anger.”

“You’re terrifying,” Sam agreed dryly.  “Can I get you anything?  Chocolate?  Flowers?”

“Yes,” Gabriel said.  “Bring them to dinner.”

Sam eyed him.  “I’m not bringing you chocolate and flowers at dinner, Gabriel.”

“Why not?” he snapped.  “You just offered.  I think it’s very rude to offer something and then change your mind.”

“If I try to give you presents,” Sam said patiently, “you’ll laugh at me.  Everyone will laugh at me.  I think being your partner confers a certain amount of automatic humiliation – which I’ve put up with, by the way – and that should fulfill my quota.  I’m not adding extra date humiliation on top of it.”

“I give you presents,” Gabriel pointed out.

“Which I don’t mock you for,” Sam retorted, but he was frowning the way he did when he knew he was wrong.

“Hah,” Gabriel said.  Just to make his feelings on the subject clear.

“Okay,” Sam agreed.  “I mock you for them.  But even you say they’re a joke.”  His expression lightened a little, and he clearly thought he had the moral high ground again.  “Jokes are mocking, Gabriel.  So.  You started it.”

If Michael had been tuned into the choir at that moment, Gabriel could have smacked him for his obnoxious little twerp of a brother.  He wasn’t, of course, and the intent fell into an empty space that only irritated Gabriel more.  “Do you think I trick people because I enjoy making fun of them?” he demanded.  “Do you think I _like_ to waste my time?  What is it you think I do, really?

“Why am I even asking this,” he interrupted himself.  “I hate this conversation.  Are you sure you don’t have any chocolate?”

“Would chocolate help?” Sam asked carefully.  “Because I might... possibly have a three musketeers bar in my pocket?”

“But yet I pray thee be not wroth for game,” Gabriel said, holding out his hand.  “For a man may say full sooth in jest.”

“Chaucer,” Sam said.  He put the promised candy bar in Gabriel’s hand.  “You want me to believe that you do all that crap for a reason?”

“I couldn’t care less what you believe,” Gabriel said.  He turned the musketeers bar into mint and tore the wrapper open without looking up.  “Human faith is fickle, Sammy.”

“If I asked you to come up with a new nickname for me,” Sam said.  “Would it be more or less embarrassing than ‘Sammy’?”

“More,” Gabriel said around a mouthful of chocolate and mint.

“Yeah,” Sam said with a sigh.  “I figured.”

Gabriel eyed him over the candy bar.  “Why did Lucifer push you.”

“Why do you care if I can touch your wings?” Sam countered.

“Because I’ve pretended to be a lot of things in my life,” Gabriel told him.  “But I never tried to blur the lines.  It was always one thing or the other.  Now even Michael can’t make up his mind and it pisses me off.”

He stopped talking because he was done, not because Sam was looking at him like he’d just figured out the code.  “Did you talk like that all the time?” Sam asked.  “Honestly?  Before you... left?  When you were the messenger, I mean?”

“Mercury tried to resign, once.”  Gabriel crinkled the wrapper noisily, watching it glint in the meager afternoon light.  “Iris went on strike.  Turns out it’s not that easy.  Ask Chuck,” he added, turning on one of Sam’s lights with a wave.  “You can’t not do what you’re meant to do.  You can only twist it.”

“So you twisted it,” Sam said.

Gabriel held out his hands in a silent showcase.

“When you say it pisses you off,” Sam said slowly.  “Do you mean – it makes you want to try?  To be...”

“I mean it pisses me off,” Gabriel snapped.  “I have to figure out your language, you get to figure out mine.  Welcome to humanity.  I’m gonna get some more chocolate.  And possibly toss a holy hand grenade into hell while I’m at it.  Don’t wait up.”

“Gabriel,” Sam said.

His wings froze and he glared at Sam.  “What?”

“Where do you want to eat,” Sam said.

“Bangkok,” Gabriel said.  “But, off-season monsoon, they’re getting dumped on right now.  So New Delhi.  I’ll pick you up at six.  I do expect flowers.”

“Don’t mess with hell,” Sam said.  “Lucifer didn’t do anything.”

Gabriel snorted.  “Lucifer’s done a lot of things.  I think he can take me getting all on unrighteous on his ass.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about,” Sam said.

“Aw, that’s sweet.”  Gabriel patted his cheek, because humans were so ridiculous _._   “You were right about Cas and Dean, by the way.  They’re quite the exhibitionists.”

“Don’t need to know!” Sam exclaimed, putting his hands over his ears.  “God, Gabriel, you’re such a jerk!”

Gabriel smirked at him.  He was so tempted to reply “bitch” that he couldn’t give that expression the time it deserved, taking off before the full effect took hold.  There were some trespasses he would never be permitted.

He did mean to turn Michael onto Lucifer.  He went back to Mesa Verde with every intention of shouting in Dean’s ear until the brat took care of his brother.  He didn’t even bother to hide: Castiel saw him instantly, and his expression promised a slow and painful death if Gabriel so much as scuffed his foot against the stone.

Dean was crying.  Or laughing.  But Castiel looked too serious for that, holding the second son of God against his chest, wings draped over him and murder in his eyes for Gabriel’s intrusion.  

 _Sam Winchester cries his way through sex,_ Gabriel thought.  But he left, and there was no burst of Michael’s awareness in the choir for another hour and a half.  When it came, it was muted, and Gabriel figured Castiel had taken his sword again.  Apparently Dean found the gesture symbolically comforting.  Or overtly sexual.

Both, probably.  But neither of them came to bust Gabriel for spying, so Castiel must not have said anything.

Instead of banging on hell, he went to Pennsylvania.  It was a tiny blip in his intense schedule of not traumatizing rebel soldiers more than absolutely necessary, which was both creepy and depressing.  On the plus side, Jason was easily duped into signing a copy of his not-yet-released album for Gabriel’s “friend,” supposedly a big fan and primed to be at the next tour stop.

“Here,” Gabriel said, tossing Sam the CD at 5:57.  “Play it around Michael.  A lot.”

“What’s this?”  Sam was frowning down at it like it was only more interesting than his computer screen because it had moved.  “Where did you get this?”

“The space-time continuum moves in mysterious ways,” Gabriel informed him.  “Are we going to get food, or what?”

Sam opened the no-longer-disguised copy of “Soul” and stared at the autograph inside it.  “What’s in DC?” he wanted to know.

“His next show,” Gabriel said.  “I told him you’d be there.  Where are my flowers?”

Sam’s face softened into a smile, and he did something that was almost a laugh as he pushed his laptop away.  “Behind the bar,” he said.  “Jo wanted to put them in a vase, but I thought that would ruin the effect.”

Gabriel blinked.  “You actually got me flowers?”

Ellen came out just as Sam produced a wrapped bouquet of yellow roses from behind the bar.  “Sam,” she said.  “No dinosaurs in the kitchen.”

“Right,” he said, shifting the roses from one arm to the other.  “Uh, could you –”

“Not unless they’re for me,” Ellen said.

“Hang on a second,” Sam finished.  “Gabriel.  Thanks for the CD.”

Gabriel considered this.  He considered it too long, as it turned out, because Sam lifted the roses in his direction only briefly before setting them down on top of the bar.  “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Gabriel looked at the roses while Sam vanished into the kitchen.  A snap of his fingers turned them all bright red.  When he sat down on the stool next to them, he looked like the woman Sam had reluctantly called “Gabby.”  She wore a kurta over her jeans.  A glance at the roses made them yellow again, because Sam was weirdly easy to freak out.

She caught Ellen watching her and narrowed her eyes, daring her to speak.  Ellen just smiled and made as if to walk past.  As she did, though, she murmured, “Sam likes the ponytail.”

Unlike Sam, Gabriel could read Ellen’s mind, and suddenly she knew exactly what Sam was using as a wallpaper on his blackberry.  Her hair was pulled back by the time Sam walked out of the kitchen – too quickly to have returned the dinosaur to the barn himself – and he stopped in his tracks.  “Gabriel,” he said.  And that was it.

She raised an eyebrow at him, because fuck humans’ stupid sexuality anyway.  “Yeah?”  Who wanted to be trapped in a body all the time if they weren’t going to enjoy it?  Why couldn’t they all be like Dean, angelic neutrality bleeding through his fall so thoroughly that he swung whichever way was convenient?

What would she do if Sam only wanted the body?

“Wow,” Sam said.  “You look... really good.”

“Hello, _archangel_ ,” she retorted.  She made a gesture like jazz hands, or sudden enlightenment, depending on who one asked.  “I snapped this look out of thin air in less than three seconds.  It’s not like I put in any extra effort.”

“Okay,” Sam said.  “No compliments.  Got it.  I still have a lot to do tonight, so are we going or what?”

She’d pissed him off.  In eleven seconds, which wasn’t anywhere close to a record.  But she hadn’t freaked him out, so for the first time in days, she went with their “get out of jail free” card.

“Do over,” Gabriel said, with a loud sigh meant to convey what she thought of the entire ritual.  “Thanks, Sammy.  You look hot too.  Did you do something to your hair?  It looks different.”

“Don’t be such a douche,” Sam said.  He was smiling, though, and he lifted his chin in the direction of the roses.  “You want me to put those in water or something?”

She snapped her fingers, water and vase procured, flowers properly arranged.  “Let’s go,” she said.

Sam was better with flying than he used to be.  He was also good enough at New Delhi English that he managed to converse with people other than Gabriel.  He ordered his own food.  He watched Gabriel only slightly more than usual, and that was exactly what she’d been afraid of.

Well, not afraid.  Aware.  Resistant to the idea of switching sexes on Sam’s whim, because what if it didn’t make a difference?  They’d both been under pressure the last time she’d looked like this, and it was possible – not likely, but possible – that she’d been a little off when it came to his reaction.

“How’s the food?” Sam asked, not looking up.

“Very Indian,” Gabriel said.  “How’s your head?”

“My head?” Sam repeated.  He glanced over his shoulder.  “This isn’t a prelude to someone coming up and clocking me, is it?”

“Because of me,” Gabriel said, rolling her eyes.  “Is your brain scrambled by me looking so awesome in a totally different way.  I get that you have reservations, Sambo.  Just checking in to see how it’s going.”

“Don’t you know?” Sam asked.  He was studying her with what looked like genuine curiosity.  Not novel, coming from Sam, but lately he’d avoided turning it on her.  She assumed because, for whatever reason, he didn’t want to stare.

“I mean,” Sam was saying, “can’t you see it?  Dean says you keep popping up in his vision.  First thing I’d do is find out when we’re supposed to get together.”

“Okay, first off.”  Gabriel glanced around, because who knew what kind of deities were out mingling with the populace today.  “Michael sees a lot of things that aren’t ‘real’ in the strictest sense of the word.  Second, you don’t exactly have a track record of accepting destiny.  And finally, it doesn’t work like that; hasn’t knowing Chuck taught you anything?”

“Does Chuck know?” Sam asked, but he was already frowning.  “He doesn’t see that far ahead.”

“He sees what’s happening now because I tell him,” Gabriel said.  “I see what’s happening at other times because people tell me.  But once you get outside of linear sequences, things don’t make the same kind of sense.”

“Like when you commune,” Sam said slowly.

“Yeah, okay,” Gabriel snapped, because that was still a sore spot.  “And what did you get out of that, hotshot?  You saw everything and what did it tell you?  Nothing.”

“I got that your world is a lot bigger than mine,” Sam said.  “I got that I’m only ever interacting with a tiny part of you, and that scares the hell out of me.  I got that I’ll never even understand a fraction of what you are: not what you look like, or where you’re from, or even really what you do.”

“I do what you do,” she grumbled.  “And I can look like anything you want.”

“Yeah, and I’ve done that,” Sam said.  “I’ve been with someone who looked like whatever they wanted to, who changed bodies the way other people pick up the phone.  And at the end of the day I choose to believe I knew her.  I choose to believe she cared about me.  But I’ll never really know.”

“Like you know Dean,” Gabriel scoffed.  “What’s he supposed to be?  You love him, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Sam said.  The reaction was instinctive, unconsidered, but Gabriel could see him trying to justify it.  “Dean’s my brother.”

“Michael’s mine,” Gabriel said.  “Kind of incestuous, isn’t it.”

Sam gave her a look, and Gabriel fully expected to hear the words “I hate you” come out of his mouth again.  But instead Sam asked, “What do you want with me, Gabriel?  There’s gotta be better company out there.”

“You’d be surprised,” Gabriel said.

“What, because I listen to you?” Sam insisted.  “You said me and Chuck, we’re the only humans who take you seriously.  He’s already involved, so you’re after me?”

“I’m not after anyone,” Gabriel snapped.  “I don’t want you, and even if I did, the fact that you’re at least nominally human would be a huge problem for me.  The fact that you’re probably _not_ human is an even bigger problem.  At least humans and angels are geographically compatible.  Whatever planet your soul came from, there’s zero reason to think it’s going to heaven when you die, and I’m done with doomed relationships.  I’m done, you hear me?”

“Not really,” Sam said.  “I asked what you’re doing here, and you didn’t tell me.”

“I did tell you,” Gabriel retorted.  “I told you.  I told Michael.  I told everyone who matters because no one will stop asking!  What do I want with Sam Winchester: nothing!  I just want my stupid family to stop looking sideways at me, to not flinch every time I walk into the room, and when Michael sees you and me together he sees that!”

“He sees... you being accepted by heaven?” Sam asked carefully.

“He sees you loving me!” Gabriel shouted.  She waved a hand, and everyone who was staring at them went back to their own conversations.  “You and your annoying family care when I disappear, which is more than I can say for heaven, and those tiny, abominable children don’t die.  So sue me if I miss the days when I thought things like that were possible!”

“Do you love me?” Sam wanted to know.

She scowled.  “Michael thinks I do.”

“Do you?” Sam demanded.

“No,” Gabriel said.

Sam smiled.  “Good,” he said.  “That makes two of us.

“So,” he added, pushing murgh malai around his plate.  “It was just you, huh?”

“Just me, what?” Gabriel asked suspiciously.

“You were the only archangel who had a kid,” Sam said.

“No,” Gabriel ground out, tempted to snap him some manners while she was at it.  “I had two.  And I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“What about the others?” Sam suggested.

Gabriel glared at him.  “Michael got Mary pregnant with Jesus.  You want to talk about that?”

“No,” Sam said quickly.  “Never mind.”

Not as fast as the snapping, but possibly more effective.

Sam’s phone rang, and Gabriel took the opportunity to smirk at him.  “I hear you have a particularly unflattering picture of me on there.”

Sam looked taken aback.  “What –”  He was already tugging his blackberry free, though, and Gabriel could see the moment when he remembered.  “Who told you that?” Sam asked, trying for confused as he glanced from Gabriel to the phone.

“Yeah,” he added, answering before Gabriel decided whether to incriminate anyone else or not.

“Sam,” Castiel said from half a world away.  Gabriel listened, because it was faster than listening to Sam relay the conversation later.  Also, he wouldn’t do it right.  “I need your help.”

“Um, okay,” Sam said, glancing at Gabriel.  “Right now?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied.

Gabriel reached out and took the phone away from Sam.  “He’s busy,” she told it.  “You owe me.”

There was silence from the other end for a couple of seconds.  Then Castiel’s voice said, “Very well.  You have an hour and a half.  Unless something worse happens, in which case I don’t owe you that much.”

“At least ask him what’s going on,” Sam hissed.

“I know what’s going on,” Gabriel retorted.  “It’s been going on for weeks.  It can wait one more hour.”

“You knew?” Castiel demanded.

“Hello!” Gabriel snapped.  “I _told_ you this would happen!  My advice now is the same as it was then: try to make sure he doesn’t kill you!”

“What?” Sam interrupted.  “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Gabriel said.  “Thanks a lot,” she told Castiel.  “I could have called _you_ , you know.”

“You don’t have a phone,” Castiel said.  Then there was nothing but a dial tone.

“Gabriel,” Sam began, but Gabriel was studying the screen on his blackberry with interest.  It was her, pinned by a tiny dinosaur in the middle of a prehistoric forest.  It was actually a pretty funny picture.

“Give me that,” Sam said.  He’d obviously figured out what she was looking at.

“You can take more pictures of me, you know.”  She passed the phone back without further resistance.  “I’m very photogenic.”

“I’m sure,” Sam muttered, putting it away.  “What did Cas want?”

“Dean’s turning into Michael,” Gabriel told him.  “He’s surprised.  Do you want dessert?  I want dessert.”

“Wait, what?”  Sam was staring at her.  “What do you mean, Dean’s turning into Michael?”

“I mean, he was Michael a lot longer than he was Dean,” Gabriel said.  “When he tries to remember what he thinks is important, there are a lot more of Michael’s memories to choose from than there are Dean’s.”

“Gabriel,” Sam snapped.  “What does Cas want.”

Gabriel shrugged.  “How should I know?  Dean probably told him to call you if something went wrong.”

“We’re going,” Sam said, standing up.  “Pay.  We need to go help Cas.”

Gabriel sighed, but it wasn’t like she’d expected any different.  Sam had thrown himself in front of an angel-killing sword meant for her, and he didn’t even like her.  Of course Dean won over dessert.

Castiel didn’t seem surprised to see them either.  He didn’t seem totally pleased to see Gabriel, but he didn’t ignore her.  “I need to get Sam into heaven,” he said.  “He’s only allowed in the company of an archangel.  Will you take him?”

“Why?” Gabriel wanted to know.  She was pretty sure heaven would let Castiel pass as an archangel if he insisted.  Who knew what he really wanted with her.

“Because I need his advice,” Castiel said impatiently.  “Will you come, Sam?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, glancing at her.  “Of course.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Fine, whatever; don’t let me stand in the way of your rampant recklessness.”

“Oh,” Sam said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.  “Your favorite thing.”

Gabriel snapped her fingers and they were standing in front of the gates of heaven.  “Where are we going?”

“In,” Castiel said.  “Your presence will not be required on the other side.”

Simea was talking to a long line of old people, which was probably a good sign.  Their eyes met through the crowd and Gabriel waved.  Neither of them looked at Sam or Castiel, but Simea was obviously aware of them.  When she glanced away, Gabriel figured they were fine.

“We’re not signing in today,” she announced, giving Sam a push when he hesitated.  “You don’t wait when you’re with me; what are you doing?  Come on.”

“Um,” Sam said.  He wasn’t trying to get in line, Gabriel realized.  He was just staring.

“It’s Vancouver,” Castiel said.  “The last place Michael and Lucifer spoke before the Fall.”

“It’s... daytime,” Sam said slowly.

“Yes,” Castiel agreed.  “By the time darkness came, Lucifer was gone.  Thus hell is the same location at night.”

Sam didn’t seem to have a problem with this, but Gabriel was staring at Castiel.  “How do you know that?”

“Michael told me,” Castiel said.  “Are you all right, Sam?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sam said, holding his hands up in front of him and giving them a weird look.  “I guess.”

“Your body is in your room at the Roadhouse,” Castiel offered.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Gabriel put in, but Castiel ignored her.

“Please don’t wander off alone,” Castiel continued.  “Dean would be very angry if I lost you.”

That finally made Sam smile.  “Yeah,” he said, lowering his hands.  “No kidding.  You tell him we’re here?”

“No,” Castiel said.  “He went to see Anael.”

“Oh,” Sam said, his smile fading.  “Sorry.”

Gabriel frowned, glancing from one of them to the other.  “Sorry?” she repeated, when no explanation appeared to be forthcoming.  “What’s that about?”

“Are you ready?” Castiel asked Sam.  “If we go in, Gabriel will have no reason to remain.”

Gabriel snorted.  “You just keep telling yourself that, bro.”

“Do you want her to go?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Castiel said.

Sam shot her an apologetic look, which was slightly mitigated by the fact that Sam had called her “her” without thinking.  She didn’t see any reason to let on, so she just rolled her eyes.  “Whatever.  Enjoy heaven.”

She was pretty sure Simea didn’t need her to actually stand there and watch them walk through the gate – especially since one of them was Castiel – so she took off.  She had better things to do than babysit Michael’s minions.  She didn’t plan to resist the temptation to check in with Jophiel, though.

“What,” Jophiel said sharply.

“Michael told him,” Gabriel said without preamble.  “Now Cas has Sam doing something with him in heaven.”

“Yes,” Jophiel said, frowning a little.  “He was... evasive, when I inquired.  He didn’t tell you either, then.”

“Nope.  He says Michael’s here; you seen him?”

Jophiel’s frown deepened, and she didn’t bother with words.  She passed the knowledge directly, an impression of Anna and Dean teaching the kids to play video games for no apparent reason.  Or at least, the girls.  There was no sense of Adamel anywhere.  

“Well, that’s pointless,” Gabriel remarked.

“It’s... human, I suppose.”  Jophiel looked like she couldn’t decide whether that made it better or worse.  “Castiel would approve.”

“He doesn’t,” Gabriel said.  “He doesn’t like Dean hanging out with Anael.  Any idea why?”

The look Jophiel gave her said that if she had to ask, no answers would be forthcoming.  “No,” Jophiel said.  Her expression wasn’t one any archangel should be receiving from a foot soldier.  Gabriel found it vaguely reassuring.

 _Hey, Anna,_ she thought.  _You make Jophiel your second?_

 _No,_ Anael answered.  _Nathaniel’s my second.  Jophiel’s in charge of the armory._

There was a brief pause while Michael’s interest made itself known, and she added, _You can come in, you know._

 _Busy,_ Gabriel replied.  _Don’t ask me where Sam is._

She didn’t, which meant Michael must already know.  Gabriel didn’t bother to say goodbye – Jophiel didn’t want her there anyway, and the humans at the Roadhouse wouldn’t know to call Castiel if they needed Sam.  She might as well be corporeal at her own garrison.

Gabriel worked in the main room of the Roadhouse for most of the night.  Ellen liked to have someone she could actually see hanging around while the humans were asleep.  Gabriel didn’t care much for human weakness, but it wasn’t like Ellen was the only one.  Maribel thought it was cool to see human-shaped angels at the garrison when she came through late at night.

As long as no one ever accused Gabriel of catering to the bastard members of the host, she was willing to pretend she had nothing to do with them.

Sam didn’t come back until four in the morning.  Less than an hour in heaven, but more than enough to royally screw up his sleep schedule.  Gabriel heard him coming down the stairs and decided to go check on Emily’s pregnant barn cat.  The combination of exotic and native animals was, according to Sam, high-maintenance to the point of needing to recruit their lodger long-term.  Gabriel thought they should just assign an angel and be done with it, but if Sam wanted Emily, then Gabriel could be very convincing.

Emily was sound asleep in the barn suite, meerkat curled up on her chest and pregnant cat sprawled in front of her flat screen TV.  Fairy lights ringed the room, and some sort of new age music played softly in surround sound.  Her time in Boston had obviously been educational.

 _Dearest Gabriel._   Sam’s prayer echoed, still seeping heaven around the edges, and Gabriel clenched her jaw in an effort to ignore it.  _Back from the dead.  Thanks for dinner; see you in the morning.  Amen._

She didn’t think the lack of response would deter Sam immediately.  He probably wasn’t even tired.  But the kids would be off to school in four hours, and he liked to sleep in blocks of three, so if he was going to bed at all it should be soon.  Gabriel went out to brush the unicorn and wait.

Sam found her in less than five minutes.  “Are you avoiding me?” he asked.

She scoffed.  “No.”

“Gabriel,” Sam said.  “You’re brushing a unicorn.”

“Unicorns need love too, Sam.”

“I’m sorry Cas was so cagey,” Sam said.  “Apparently Dean made some comment about putting up posters in the dome, and Cas took him seriously.  Pictures on the refrigerator, coat hooks in the hall... he already had a bed, which I didn’t ask about but, tragically for me, Cas felt the need to explain anyway.”

“You made Michael’s base into a man-cave,” Gabriel said.

Sam shrugged.  “Cas said Dean told him we could do whatever we wanted.”

“You think that’s gonna make him remember what it means to be human?”

“Honestly,” Sam said with a sigh, “I think it makes Cas feel like he’s doing something.  If you’ve got any better ideas, I’m listening.”

“So not my problem,” Gabriel informed him.

“Okay.”  Sam shook his head like fighting wasn’t worth it, and it was the worst thing Gabriel had seen all day.  “Whatever.  G’night.”

“Sam,” Gabriel said.

Sam paused, but he didn’t turn.  “Yeah.”

She didn’t, actually.  Have any better ideas.  “Nothing.”

“Are we going to lose him?” Sam asked the stall door.  “I’ve seen him.  When he’s Michael.  He thinks he’s exactly the same, but he’s not.”

Gabriel watched Sam not look at her.  “Are you scared of him?”

“He’s my big brother,” Sam said.  “He’s the thing the scary things are scared of, you know?”

He hadn’t answered the question, but Gabriel had seen Michael’s sword light up the lowest reaches of hell.  “Yeah,” she said.  “I know.”

Sam finally looked at her again.  “Are you scared of him?” he wanted to know.

The obvious answer was “no,” but only because what she was scared of had already happened.  “Michael could tear the garrisons apart,” she said.  “He could single-handedly relaunch a civil war.  We don’t need hell to destroy ourselves from the inside out.”

“So,” Sam said.  “Yes.”

“Hell yes,” Gabriel said.  “Michael and Lucifer were supposed to bring on the apocalypse.  There’s only so far you can twist that before it snaps back and the world falls apart.”

Sam was staring at her.  “I bet you’re awesome with bedtime stories,” he said at last.

“Try me,” she said.

Sam made it sound more like a challenge than an invitation.  “Tell me a bedtime story.”

“Get in bed,” she countered.

“Just a story,” Sam said.  “How hard is that?”

“No,” Gabriel said.  “It’s a bedtime story, or story told _after one is in bed_ in an effort to evoke feelings of comfort and security.  To promote relaxation, release, and ultimately unconsciousness.”

“My temper is this short right now,” Sam said, holding up the thumb and first finger of his right hand.  “Don’t do anything that makes us both avoid each other.”

“Well, I can see comfort and security are going to be a challenge,” Gabriel said.  “I’m zapping you to your room.  Try to avoid summoning Michael.”

Sam didn’t scream for Michael, which was mostly to be expected.  But he insisted on brushing his teeth and changing his clothes – and he made Gabriel turn around while he did it.  “Conceptually stupid,” Gabriel reminded him, several times.  Sam ignored her protests.

He also didn’t get into bed so much as sit on top of it, but Gabriel wasn’t going to push her luck.  She didn’t know when she’d decided this was a good idea, but she wanted it so much that she felt stupidly human.  She knew she’d go too far to make this happen and she didn’t care enough to think about it.

Except that apparently, being her was a deal-breaker.  Sam flinched when she stepped closer to the bed.  She knew he realized how she would take it, but he didn’t apologize.

“I’m going to touch you,” she muttered.  “If that’s not okay, you might as well tell me now.”

“Gabriel.”  Sam sounded uneasy.  “I just want my story, okay?”

She rolled her eyes, because whatever was going through Sam’s head right now was probably hilarious.  “This is your story, dumbass.  It’ll only take a second.”

Sam was staring at her, but being insulted in return seemed to reassure him.  He nodded once.  Gabriel pressed two fingers to his forehead before he could come up with anything worse.

“Why did it come out of a chrysalis if it’s a horse?” Maia was asking.

“Obviously it’s not a horse,” Gabriel said, rolling her eyes.  “It has wings, kiddo; it ain’t a horse.”

“You said it looked like a horse,” Maru reminded her.

“It does look like a horse,” Gabriel agreed.  “A tiny, flying horse.  And this tiny flying horse was just as confused as you are, let me tell you.  She flew all over, trying to find creatures who looked like her.”

Sam made a sound at her side, and Gabriel covered his mouth before he could speak.  They were watching themselves, their kids, their campfire under an alien sky in the warm summer air.  “Just listen,” Gabriel whispered.  “It’s short, okay?  Even your attention span should be able to handle it.”

“But she couldn’t,” the Sam by the fire was saying.  “Because there weren’t any until her.  She was the first.”

“So she tried to be an ant,” Maia said.

“And a butterfly!” Maru added.

“A bee first,” Maia told him.  “Then a butterfly.”

He scowled at her.  “I know.”

“Gabriel,” her Sam whispered.  “Is this real?”

She closed her eyes, felt his hand fumbling against her side and for a second she had no idea what he was trying to do.  She wasn’t carrying anything; she had no idea what he could possibly want.  Until his fingers found hers and clasped them loosely like he could just – hold her hand.  Like that was normal, like it was okay, like he was just going to hold an archangel’s hand and somehow that was fine.

Gabriel shook her head, but she didn’t open her eyes and she didn’t pull her hand away.  “I don’t know.”

“She didn’t fit in anywhere,” the other Sam was saying.  “All the other animals noticed, and they tried to help her but she couldn’t do what they did.”

“Well, she could,” Gabriel said.  “But she was so much better at it that it threw everyone else off.”

“No, that’s you.”  Sam poked her, very obviously, the fire sparkling with strange colors in the darkness and casting an ethereal glow over a family too odd to be true.  Maia was trying to get her fire stick to burn, pulling it out of the fire and putting it out whenever she was successful.  Maru was propped up against Gabriel, muttering a wordless protest when Sam’s poke made them both shift.

“Regardless,” Gabriel said, putting an arm around the little boy.  “She was getting pretty discouraged by the time a wise old butterfly made her look at her reflection in the water.  The butterfly told her to stop trying to be like everyone else, because surprise, she wasn’t.  She was different.  She had to do different things.”

“What did she have to do?” Maru asked.

“She had to look out for them,” Sam told him.  “For all the animals.  She loved to fly, so the butterfly told her to keep flying, to keep a lookout.  To watch for signs of winter, and to warn them when it was coming.”

“And did she?” Maia asked idly, as though she knew the answer perfectly well.

“At first,” Gabriel said.  “But the longer she was around, the more she found her own ways to be helpful.”

“Some of them worked better than others,” Sam added, sounding amused.

“But that’s a story for another time,” Gabriel said smoothly.

Just like that, they were in Sam’s room again, bedside lamp reflecting off the walls instead of firelight dissipating in the darkness.  Sam blinked up at her as she let her hand fall.  “Gabriel?”

It hurt to look at him, and it shouldn’t, so she ignored it.  She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand to see the distance on his face when Michael’s stupid vision was there for the visiting.  That way lay madness, but it hurt and as long as she felt pain she knew she hadn’t totally lost touch with humanity.  Or reality.

It was worse to think of stopping.  To think of forgetting the feel of family around her.

“Good night, Sam,” she said quietly.

He caught her arm.  “Hey,” Sam said.  “Thanks.”

Gabriel shook her head, because there wasn’t anything she could say to that and she wasn’t about to try.

“Are you okay?” Sam murmured.

She glared at him.  What did he think okay looked like?  She was full up with awesome, thank you very much.

“If you smite me,” Sam said, not letting go of her arm as he stood up, “I’m never asking you out again.”

“Obviously,” Gabriel huffed.  But that was all she managed before Sam’s arms slid around her and the damned boy was hugging her.  Carefully, like she might burst out of her human form at any minute.

Or like he knew where her wings were and didn’t quite believe she couldn’t feel him.

“Because this is your answer to everything,” she mumbled, refusing to move.  “It’s like the secret Sam silencer.  You just crush people into shutting up, don’t you.”

She felt him huff a laugh against her hair.  “I wish,” he said.  “Never seems to work with you.”

“You should go to bed.”  Gabriel turned her head so she wasn’t speaking directly into his shoulder.  “That’s the point of a bedtime story.  It puts you to sleep.”

One of Sam’s arms slid lower, wrapping around her waist, while his other hand pressed gently between her shoulder blades.  It wasn’t just a hug.  He was cradling her against him and she couldn’t hold on, she wouldn’t.  He was human and breakable and dumb as a rock.  What was she supposed to do with a soul like his?

“Guess you’re not as good at it as you think you are,” Sam whispered.

She wanted to say, _let me go._   Except that he would.  She knew he would.  Because Sam was very predictable, so what came out instead was, “I’d like to see you do better.”

“You’ll have to make the bed bigger,” Sam said quietly.  His voice sounded distant even with his body was pressed this close, and the lack of mind-reading made her crazy.  She could barely _hear_ him.  “If you’re going to sit on it with me.  For your story.”

She tried to scoff.  “You know bedtime stories?  Let me guess, the big man kills the yellow-eyed dragon and his sons drive off into the sunset together.  No thanks.  I’ve heard that one.”

“It’s funny,” Sam said, his thumb rubbing tiny circles into her back.  “Sometimes I’m actually surprised by you being an asshole, and other times I’m just waiting for it.  I don’t know what it says about me that I still like you, even with the...”

“General assholery?” she suggested.  “It’s a gift, Sammy.  One honed through millennia of practice.”

“No,” he said.  “It’s the provocation that gets me, I think.  The way you do it so deliberately.”

“It’s not provocation,” Gabriel muttered.  “It’s precision.  It’s a _gift._ ”  She didn’t know why she expected him to get it now when it obviously hadn’t sunk in any other time, but she kept trying.  Or maybe she wasn’t even trying anymore, maybe it was just a compulsion: tell the truth.

“Your voice,” Sam said slowly.  “Your gift.”

“Duh,” she said.

“We can’t handle the truth.”  He sounded almost amused, now, and maybe he was getting it after all.  “We think you’re being obnoxious, but you’re just telling us what we don’t want to hear.  The truth.”

“It’s out there,” she replied.

He still didn’t push her away.  She let her body relax incrementally, and Sam responded by resting his head on top of hers.  She sighed, but when she laid her hands lightly on his hips he didn’t flinch.

“After all this,” Sam said, without lifting his head.  He definitely sounded amused this time.  “You think I’m going to, what... slap your hands away?”

“You thought I might smite you,” Gabriel reminded him.

Sam laughed at that, lifting a hand to smooth her hair when he mussed it accidentally.  “You might.”

“I suppose you’ve noticed you’re a lot more affectionate when I look like a woman,” Gabriel grumbled.  She didn’t want to say it, but she had to.  He would just accuse her of manipulating him if she didn’t.

Sam’s hand stilled.  “I’m not,” he said.

“Sam.”  She rolled her eyes, not that it did any good when he couldn’t see her face.  “You’re petting me.”

“I want to kiss you more when you’re a woman,” Sam whispered, like it was a secret he didn’t want to let go of.  “I’m more affectionate when you’re _vulnerable_.  When you don’t act like you’re going to electrocute me for being nice to you.  Has nothing to do with what you look like.”

“I’m not vulnerable,” she snapped.  “Hello –”

“Archangel,” Sam finished with her.  “Yeah, you’ve mentioned that.  Look –”

The hand behind her head moved to squeeze her shoulder with enough pressure to warn her he was going to back off.  She dropped her hands instantly.  Sam took a single step back, hand lingering on her hip for just a moment.  “Change back,” he said gently.  “Look however you want.”

Gabriel sneered at him.  “Like I need your permission.”

“I’m not saying that,” Sam said quickly, then gave her an irritated look.  “You know I’m not saying that.  This isn’t about you, okay?  I’m just trying to explain.  Stay like that if you want, but it doesn’t help me prove my point.”

“And your point is?” she demanded.

“My point is that I like you!” Sam exclaimed.  “And when you’re not acting like you’re about to bite my head off, it’s a lot easier to admit it to you!”

Gabriel snapped her fingers.  Suddenly Sam was looking at exactly the same janitor he’d met in Springfield.  His lips quirked a little, but all he said was, “I was getting used to the longer hair.”

Gabriel snorted.  “So much for not caring what I look like.”

Sam held his hands out to his sides.  “I care what you look like,” he admitted.  “I never said I didn’t.  All I’m saying is that what you look like doesn’t change how much I... like you.  It just changes...”  He trailed off helplessly.

“You don’t want to mack on me when I look like a guy,” Gabriel said.

Sam put his hands on his hips, rolling his eyes in a display of exasperation clearly meant to cover his embarrassment.  “I’m straight, okay?  I’m not saying that because I have some deep homosexual insecurity.  I’m just not attracted to guys.  I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“News flash,” Gabriel snapped.  “I’m an angel.  Whatever weird biological urges you have?  I don’t.  The only fucking I do is for fun, and yeah, I’m gonna look like a woman if it makes you happier because for some inexplicable reason I think you’re cute when you smile.  But I’m not a woman, I’m not a man, and your sexuality means zip to me.”

“Okay,” Sam said, like he hadn’t quite gotten all of that yet.  “Okay.  That’s fair.”

“That’s fair?” Gabriel repeated.  “What does that mean, ‘that’s fair’?  That’s not fair.  That’s interspecies romance, and trust me, it’s about as fun as a flea circus.”

“Romance?”  The corners of Sam’s mouth turned up a little, and he might have been teasing.  “Is this a romance?”

“We’re dating, genius.”  Gabriel glared at him.  “You want me to give you my class ring?  Oh, wait.”  His gaze flicked to the chain around Sam’s neck.  “You already have one.”

“We went on one date,” Sam pointed out.  He didn’t acknowledge War’s ring at all.

“Well, we’re going on another one,” Gabriel said irritably.  “I’ll bring you flowers this time.”

“Really?”  Sam looked torn between amusement and skepticism.  “Where are we going?”

Gabriel heaved a sigh.  “It’s your turn to pick, Sammy boy.  Try not to be boring.”

If Sam’s expression was anything to go by, his head was filled with something Gabriel really wished he could see.  It took him remarkably little time to ask, “Is Pandora a real place?”

Gabriel felt a grin threaten to overtake his face, and he lifted his fingers invitingly.  “Want to find out?”

“No,” Sam blurted out.  “I mean, yes,” he added quickly.  “Not now.  I have to sleep, Gabriel.”

He didn’t.  Gabriel could make it so he never had to sleep again.  Brain chemistry wasn’t as hard as humans made it out to be.

“I want to sleep,” Sam said, more carefully this time.  “I also want to go out with you.  Can we – when’s a good time?  Is there a good time?  There isn’t, is there.”

“No,” Gabriel said.  “One of the many perks of being an archangel is that it doesn’t matter.”

“Okay, so.”  Sam looked like he was bracing himself.  “Tomorrow?”

“When you say ‘tomorrow’,” Gabriel began.  “You mean the today that will continue after you wake up this morning, or the day after today?”

“Today,” Sam said.  “Tonight.  Whenever.”

“We’re not eating there,” Gabriel said.  “They’re weird about food.”

“So, after dinner,” Sam said.  “Do you want your bedtime story or not?”

Gabriel gave Sam’s bed a disdainful look and snapped his fingers.  He let the larger bed with way better sheets distract Sam from the fact that she looked like a woman again.  Sam could say whatever he wanted, but he hadn’t touched her since she’d been a man.

Not that she wanted him to.

“How do you decide what you’re wearing?” Sam asked.  He was studying her again.  “When you... change what you look like, I mean.”

“Contrary to what you might think, it doesn’t take a vast amount of brainpower to choose clothing.”  She took his place on the bed because otherwise they might stand there all night.  He didn’t react, unfortunately.  “It’s situationally appropriate.”

“Is that why you always look like us?” Sam wanted to know.  “You wear whatever we wear?”

“I look way better than you,” Gabriel informed him.  “Where’s my story?”

“Gabriel, I think I owned that jacket you always have on when I was sixteen.”  Sam looked amused as he climbed onto the bed beside her.  It was a long way from wary, or freaked out, or even annoyed at where she’d chosen to sit.  “You probably do look better in it, but I think that says more about my awkward teenage phase than it does about your sense of fashion.”

“Has it occurred to you that your whole life is an awkward teenage phase?” Gabriel asked.

Sam rolled his eyes, pushing a pillow up behind his back as he leaned against the head of the bed.  “You know, more people might listen to you if you were nicer.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Gabriel said.  “And I’d be bored.  Not much of an incentive.”

“You’re bored now,” Sam said.

The bed shifted underneath them as Sam tried to get comfortable, and finally Gabriel glared at him.  “I’d be less bored if you’d do that over here.”

Sam stilled – not surprised, Gabriel thought, but cautious, and why were they so fucking scared of each other?  She wanted to be the bold one.  She was the bold one, obviously.  She should just shove him down on the bed and kiss him until he wasn’t afraid to touch her anymore.  Until it seemed natural to walk up and put an arm around him, until there was someone, just one person she could count on to reach back if she reached out.

She didn’t need it.  She’d been alone more than long enough to prove it wouldn’t kill her.  But she’d always thought it was her choice.  It had been shattering to realize there was no heaven for her now, not the way she’d known it, and it was the only thing that made her feel even marginally sympathetic toward the lesser angels.  Sometimes home just wasn’t what you thought.

“You still here?” Sam said quietly.

He was pressed up against her and she’d barely noticed.  So much for reaching out.

“What would you do if I pushed you down and kissed you right now?” Gabriel wanted to know.

Sam seemed to consider that, which was at least better than the alternative.  “I don’t know,” he admitted after a moment.  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

She frowned.  “Should I be offended?”

“Would me saying yes or no make a difference either way?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Gabriel said.

“No,” Sam replied.  “Don’t be offended.  I just – I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Telling me a bedtime story?” Gabriel suggested.

Sam smiled.  “Not so far,” he pointed out.  “You’re softer than this pillow though, so.  Thanks for that.”

“You’re not,” she grumbled.

He shifted, and it took her a second to figure out that he was trying to get his arm around her shoulders.  Gabriel moved enough that he could pull her against him, and it was stupidly human and surprisingly uncomfortable.  “Not helping,” she complained.

Sam laughed at her, and that wasn’t the reaction she’d expected at all.  “What,” he said, “it’s all up to me?  You’re the one who’s uncomfortable.  You move.”

It was bizarre to realize she hadn’t.  Because obviously she should move; who cared what he thought?

“Not used to doing this with a real person?” he said.

Gabriel froze.

“Who do you make up?” Sam asked, more quietly.  “Are they totally imaginary?  Or are they people you used to know?”

 _Shut up,_ Gabriel thought.  _Shut up, Sam, I will smite you.  Don’t think I won’t._

The words slid right past him like he wasn’t there.

“I can sleep with anyone I want,” she said evenly.

“But you don’t,” Sam replied.  “You sleep with two very specific people.”

Gabriel jerked away from him, turning to stare even as Sam held up his hands placatingly.  “How do you know that?” she demanded.  “How did you – I told you,” she realized.  But as quickly as the thought struck, her eyes narrowed.  “I didn’t tell you they were the same people.”

“What?”  Sam looked as confused as she felt for a moment, which was embarrassing and stupid and how the fuck –

“Maribel,” she said.

“No,” Sam said, then blinked.  “Yeah.  I mean – no, you told me that years ago, why would I even remember?  And yeah.  You let Maribel into your house.”

“I didn’t let her in,” Gabriel snapped.  “She broke in.”

“She was practicing pocket dimensions with Aramel,” Sam said.  “It’s not her fault you leave them lying around like that.”

“This conversation is over.”  Gabriel shook her wings free – why were they pressed up against Sam, she didn’t even know – and Sam didn’t reach for her.

“Fine,” he said.  “We’re done.  Please don’t go.”

It was such a ridiculously Sam thing to say that it gave her pause.  “Why not?”

“Because I was hoping to trick you into falling asleep with me,” he said.  “Because I don’t want you to leave mad, and if you laugh at that, I’ll smack you.  Because I don’t actually care who you sleep with, not yet.  I will.  I mean, I don’t – you can call it off limits and if it’s in the past, that’s okay.  I’m okay with that.”

“Sam,” Gabriel said.

“Kind of okay,” Sam amended.  “I don’t know how much the past is really the past for angels.”

“Sam,” Gabriel repeated, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sam closed his mouth.  “Right,” he said.

She edged closer, leaning up against his shoulder, and this time Sam’s arm eased around behind her back.  “Gimme my story,” Gabriel muttered.

Sam leaned down, breath ghosting over her hair.  “Once there was an angel named Gabriel,” he whispered.  “Who had a god-given gift for telling the truth, and a really hard time hearing it.”

She turned her head, grumbling into his chest.  “Why are you so obnoxious.”

“What can I say,” Sam murmured.  “God made me this way.”

“I hate you,” Gabriel muttered.

She could hear Sam smiling.  “You and everyone else,” he said.

Gabriel knew exactly how unlikely that was.  “Why do you want me to fall asleep here?”

“Because you took me into that maybe-real future really easily,” Sam said quietly.  “Dean says he keeps seeing you there, and I know we don’t see you when you don’t want us to.  So either you want him to see you, or you’re there a lot more than he realizes.  And that’s dangerous, Gabriel.  That’s living in a dream world.”

“You don’t know that,” she muttered.  “It could be real.”

“If it’s real, you’ll get there,” Sam insisted.  “Don’t throw away what you’ve got now because you’re spending all your time watching that.”

“Maybe I like that better,” Gabriel snapped.  “Look around, Sam.  This is a joke.  We’re running an angel support group out of a roadside diner.  Raphael and Zachariah are gonna slam the gate shut the second Michael looks the other way, Lucifer will get sick of playing lapdog, and those children are a time bomb.  The only question is who’s going to break first.

“So I’m sorry,” she added, “if I’d like to believe that you and a couple of the people you care about manage to survive whatever happens next, but it’s the only good thing that’s gonna come out of this and I’m tired of waiting for the axe to fall!”

“Gabriel,” Sam was saying, “Gabriel.  Gabriel.”  Quietly, over and over, and _what._

“What!” she burst out.  “Stop saying that!”

Sam’s arms were tight around her, and why was she shaking.  Why was she yelling at him; what was wrong with her.

“Do you want me to let you go,” Sam whispered.

“Are you stupid?”  She gave up on breathing because it just sounded like she was going to pieces, which was obviously untrue and it was one less thing to think about.  She’d fix it later.  “I hate Michael.  I hate Lucifer.  I hate Dad and all of his worthless, idiotic plans.  I hate everyone, and you ask if I want you to let me go.”

“Well,” Sam began.

“No!” Gabriel shouted.  “I do not want you to let me go!  Is that clear enough for you?”

She felt Sam’s breath against her hair.  “Yeah,” he said.  “I got it.”

Gabriel closed her eyes, heard Sam whisper, “Breathe.”  She fisted her hand in his shirt so hard it tore, but she started to breathe again and he didn’t say anything else for a long time.  

Eventually, Isithiel checked in.  Gabriel diverted her to Aramel.  Hanathel checked in, and when Gabriel sent her to Aramel as well, Aramel asked – with something almost like finesse – if Gabriel would like her to handle the rest of the morning assignments.

Normally she would have said no.  Normally she would have said, _If I wanted you to handle morning assignments, I would have said so._

Normally she didn’t have a sleeping Sam holding her in a bed he’d let her make.

She told Aramel yes.

It was six-thirty when a timid knock came on the door.  Gabriel looked without lifting her head and found Maribel standing indecisively in the hallway.  _You might as well come in,_ she said.

The door didn’t creak, but a moment later, Maribel was standing on the other side of the bed.  _You weren’t downstairs,_ she said silently.  Careful, like she still thought Gabriel might kill her if she didn’t pay attention, but not fearful.  Not anymore.

Maybe not ever.  This was Cas’ kid, after all.

Gabriel refused to move.  _Don’t you have to, I dunno, get ready for school or something?_

 _No._   Maribel also didn’t have to say that Dean and Castiel weren’t back yet, because if they were, she’d be bugging them instead.  _Can I sit with you?  Aramel’s busy, and it’s lonely without anyone._

 _Go play with Wildfire,_ Gabriel said.

 _I don’t want to,_ Maribel told her.  _I want you._

At least the brat wasn’t asking her to move.  _Fine,_ Gabriel thought.  _Whatever._

As an afterthought she added, _Don’t wake Sam._

Maribel climbed onto the other side of the bed and immediately curled up beside Sam.  Sit with her, indeed.  Gabriel closed her eyes and ignored the angelic child as well as she could.  Which wasn’t very well, given her creepy quicksilver grace and the human shine on her soul, but none of them moved for almost an hour.

Two minutes before Sam’s alarm was supposed to go off, Gabriel slid her wings free and disappeared to the door.  When she glanced back, she saw Maribel had turned her head enough to open one eye.  The brat probably watched her walk out into the hallway.  Gabriel closed the door behind her without checking.

She opened a random door on the other side of the hallway and walked into her own house.  It wasn’t as occupied as Maribel seemed to think.  In fact, the only person inside was Sam: yawning convincingly on the couch, computer open on his lap and a cup of coffee perched nearby.

“Hey,” Sam said, soft smile just for her when she closed the door.  “Morning.”

 _That’s dangerous,_ his voice said in her mind.  _That’s living in a dream world._

She closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, the house was empty.  “Fuck you, Sam Winchester,” Gabriel said aloud.  “Fuck you very much.”

 _Gabriel,_ Castiel said.  _The horsemen are loose._

More interesting than the message was the way Castiel delivered it, and Gabriel welcomed the distraction.  _Little bro,_ she thought _, did you just address me?  Just me?_

 _The four horsemen,_ Castiel repeated, as though she might not have understood the first time.  _Well, the three.  We’re not sure about War.  But Famine and Pestilence have been positively identified, and I have no doubt that Death rides._

 _Like anything can stop Death,_ Gabriel replied.  _Since when are you spreading your private telepathy around?_

 _Where are you?_ Castiel asked.  _We need to talk._

 _Sam’s sleeping,_ Gabriel said.

 _Dean went to get him,_ Castiel told her. _We must meet before Lucifer arrives._

To take the kids to school.  Of course.  Gabriel shook her head, but it wasn’t like there was anything for her here.  She walked out of the house and into the barn, where Castiel was already talking to Jo.  He didn’t look at Gabriel when she joined them, but Joanna Beth gave her both a first and second take.

“Wow,” Jo said.  “So this is your new look, huh?”  She didn’t seem to care that Castiel looked impatient and vaguely confused by her distraction.  “I like!”

“Yeah, I’m hot stuff,” Gabriel agreed.  “Where are the wonder twins?”

“So, problem,” Dean’s voice said.  He and Sam were suddenly there, and even Jo didn’t seem surprised.  “Lucifer said he’d take care of the horsemen for us.  They’re riding.  What do we do?”

“What we always do,” Sam said.  “Stop them.  We beat War; we can beat the rest of them.”

Gabriel snorted, but Castiel got there first.  “No one can stop Death,” he told Sam.

“Lucifer can,” Dean said.

“Michael.”  Gabriel took great pleasure in waving her hand in his face.  “Hello!  Anyone in there?  Lucifer’s the one who sent them.  Call me crazy, but I don’t think he’s gonna be in a big hurry to stop them.”

“Do we tell him?” Sam asked.  “That we know?”

“How hard is it to miss the horsemen of the apocalypse?” Jo wanted to know.  When Sam glanced at her, she added, “Seriously.  We’ve got the big guns here.  Is Lucifer gonna believe we haven’t noticed?”

“Sam could sell it,” Dean said.

“Sam would have to,” Castiel said.  “He’s the one who has the most interaction with Lucifer.”

“About that,” Gabriel interrupted, and Sam shot her a warning look.

“Jo’s right,” Sam said.  “Lucifer’s gonna know we’re onto him.”

“This didn’t happen today,” Castiel said.  When Sam and Jo looked at him, he added, “We learned about it today.  If the horsemen have been riding long enough to draw attention, then Lucifer likely knew before we did.”

Gabriel rolled her eyes.  “Oh, you think?  You think maybe we’re dealing with the ruler of _hell_ , here?”

“He hasn’t said anything,” Sam said.  “Yeah.  I see what you mean.”

Jo looked from one of them to another.  “So, spill,” she said.  “For those of us who don’t speak angel?”

“We carpool,” Sam said.  “He comes into the Roadhouse; I see him every day.  If he was going to stage some kind of attack, he’s had plenty of chances.”

“He released horsemen of the apocalypse!” Gabriel exclaimed.  “What do you want, a neon sign?”

“They’re riding,” Dean corrected.  “We don’t actually know he released them.”

Gabriel wasn’t the only one staring at him.

“Um,” Sam said.  “You do know you’re defending the devil, right?”

Dean gave him a look that made Sam raise his hands in surrender.

“You’re defending the devil,” Jo repeated.

“Dean is pointing out the gaps in our information,” Castiel said.

“And I’m fucking Sam Winchester,” Gabriel retorted.

They all stared at him for that, mostly with varying degrees of horror.  “Your personal life is so off-limits,” Dean growled.  “The less you tell me, the less I’ll have to _kill_ you, is that clear?”

“Dean,” Sam began.  He sounded somewhere between annoyed and apologetic.

“Shut up,” Dean said.  “I’m not sure how I feel about you getting in a car with the devil today.”

“As opposed to any other day?” Sam asked pointedly.  “I’m not letting him take the kids alone.  Not after this.”

“Is it crazy to ask him?” Jo wanted to know.

Sam wasn’t the only one to give her an odd look.  “Ask him what?”

“Why the horsemen are out,” she said.  Like they were the slow ones.  “The apocalypse is off, right?  What’s he doing with Death and War and whoever?”

“Pestilence and Famine,” Dean said.  He gave her his fake, show-off smile, and Gabriel noticed that Castiel didn’t.  Or if he did notice, he didn’t react.  “War is ring-less.  Worst case, we take everyone else’s rings too.  It sucks, but it’s probably doable.”

“Oh, really,” Gabriel demanded.  “That’s so far from the worst case: that and the worst case aren’t even in the same galaxy.  It would take you light-years to get to worst case from where you are.”

“We’re not asking him,” Dean said.

“I’ll ask him,” Sam said, pulling gloves free of his jacket pockets.  “We don’t have a lot of choices here, and so far he hasn’t done anything overtly hostile.”

“He pushed you,” Gabriel said, knowing exactly what it would do.

“What?”  All of Dean’s focus was trained on Sam.  “Pushed you how?  Lucifer pushed you?  When?”

“Pushed me,” Sam repeated, with a noise that was almost a laugh.  “This is how far we’ve come.  This is what we worry about now.  I’m the hand-picked vessel of the devil, and we’re going to worry about whether he can touch me or not.”

“He’s touching you?” Dean repeated dangerously.  “Why is he touching you?  Why is _Lucifer_ touching you?”

“He’s not doing anything,” Sam said.  “Okay?  We take kids to kindergarten together; we have to look passably normal.  It’s fine.”

“Sam, I’ve been to school,” Dean told him.  “The parents do not get all touchy-feely with each other.  They definitely don’t get all touchy-feely with the devil!”

“Look,” Sam said.  “I know you’re all angeled up, but in case you’ve been too busy with Cas to notice, I’m still human!  I’m on an angel schedule here and I’m not an angel.  I don’t get enough sleep.  Practically the only time I get to eat is when Gabriel kidnaps me.  I’m not exactly running on all cylinders, and if Lucifer sometimes keeps me from falling over in front of the teachers, then I think we should thank him for it!”

“That’s why you let him drive,” Gabriel said, frowning.  She’d tried to pretend it didn’t creep the hell out of her when Sam sat in the passenger seat and handed Lucifer the keys, but it happened almost every day now.

“Teachers are required to report child endangerment,” Sam said.  “Which includes driving them into a ditch because you fell asleep behind the wheel.”

“You could have said something,” Dean said.

“Yeah, well, I’m saying something,” Sam told him.  “You’ve got a lot to deal with right now.  I get that.  Just... stop acting like you can fix whatever I’m doing without knowing what’s going on.”

Dean held up his hands, mimicking Sam’s earlier gesture of surrender.

“Should we wait for Sam to speak to Lucifer?” Castiel asked.  “The horsemen leave devastation in their wake even now.”

“We only know where two of them are,” Dean said.  “The sooner we stop them the better.  If Lucifer can’t or won’t do it, we will.”

It sounded a lot more like Lucifer’s little brother than it did like Dean, Gabriel thought.  Equivocal and implausible all at once.  “Your plan sucks,” she informed Dean.  “You think you and Sam are the only people capable of hunting a horseman?  You have _archangels._   Use them.”

“Wait,” Jo said, looking from Dean to Sam and back again.  “What’s the plan?  Did I miss the plan?”

“Sam and I have the best track record with these things,” Dean said.  “The plan is that we take them out.”  He stopped there, but Gabriel didn’t think that what he didn’t say made it any better.

“Wow,” Jo said, rolling her eyes.  “Gabriel’s right.  That’s a terrible plan.”

“Thank you,” Gabriel said sarcastically.  “See, Michael.  Two to one says your plan is stupid.  Can we be serious about this now?  How about I go whack some horsemen while you try to get your head around the fact that Lucifer isn’t on the up and up.  Don’t ask anyone here; they’re clearly brainwashed.  Try talking to Anael.”

The cold look Castiel gave her could have frozen fire, and she finally got it.  That was _jealousy_ in his eyes.  Gabriel was embarrassed it had taken her this long to figure it out.  Jo wasn’t a threat, obviously.  Anna was.  Lucifer reacted the same way when Samael mentioned their sister.  Who knew little Anael was such a siren.

“No one’s going after a horseman without backup,” Dean said.  “Sam.”

They did that annoying thing where they didn’t have to talk, which pissed Gabriel off because no one could do that with Sam.  No one in the entire world but Dean.  Sam was a blank wall, psychically speaking, and the only way to get into his head was to have been there all along.  Since birth, as far as she could tell.

She could feel the smug look Castiel was giving her.  She ignored it.

“We’ll take Famine,” Sam was saying.  “I don’t think you should be around anything that’s gonna make you eat more.”

“Ha ha,” Dean retorted.  “At least I won’t have to listen to your whiny ass going on about a case of the sniffles.”

“Pestilence will likely inflict victims with more serious illnesses than a cold,” Castiel said.

“Yeah,” Dean said, rolling his eyes.  “I think you’re right.”

Castiel frowned, clearly aware that he’d missed something, but Jo spoke before he could.  “How much do the horsemen affect you guys?” she wanted to know.  “I mean, War was really convincing, but Cas wasn’t with us that day.  Would he have seen through the illusion?  Would you?” she added, eyeing Dean.  “Now?”

“Yeah,” Dean said.  “Sure.”

“No,” Castiel said at the same time.

They looked at each other, and Jo raised an eyebrow.  “Well, that’s conclusive.”

“I would have been aware that something was distorting your perception,” Castiel said.  “But mine would also have been affected.  War’s ring is very powerful.”

Jo didn’t so much as glance at Sam, so Gabriel assumed no one had told her he had it.  No one had told Gabriel, either, but she wasn’t stupid.  Jo just had the disadvantage of being human.  And far too trusting.

“Probably won’t work as well on archangels,” Dean said.

“Probably?” Jo repeated.

Dean shrugged.  “Find them, cut off their ring, get away,” he said.  “How hard can it be?”

“You know, you say things like that,” Sam said.  “And suddenly we’re being sacrificed.  Or possessed.  Or getting turned into cars,” he added, giving Gabriel an irritated look.

She smiled.  “You make a good car, Sammy.  What can I say.”

“Hey, what do you know,” Dean said.  “Time for school.  You get into trouble, you pray, you got it?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, turning the _Am I stupid?_ look on Dean.  “I think I can handle the complicated exit strategy.”

“You gonna fall asleep in the car?” Dean insisted.  “How much shut-eye did you get last night?”

“I was in heaven last night,” Sam said.  “With Cas,” he added, when Dean’s gaze immediately went to Gabriel.  This didn’t help, which Gabriel could have told him, so he said, “I slept, okay?  It wasn’t as late as usual.  I’m fine.”

“Okay, whatever.”  Dean was frowning, and Gabriel could hear the disturbance in heaven no matter how much she tried not to care.  “I gotta go yell at Zachariah.  Let me know when you’re back.”

 _You’re just gonna let him get in a car with Lucifer?_ Gabriel demanded.

“Yes, I’m going to let him get in a car with Lucifer,” Dean said aloud.  “Like every other day this week.  You know that whole conversation we just had?  That was when you could raise issues with the plan.  Now, right now, this is too late.  The plan is in effect.  Excuse me while I go kick Zachariah’s ass.”

Dean disappeared, leaving Sam glaring at her, Jo smirking, and Castiel apparently oblivious.  “Sam,” he said.  “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Yeah,” Sam said.  “Talk to Maribel.  She was lonely last night.”

Gabriel sighed, because Sam wasn’t looking at Castiel.  “I was busy,” she told him.  “It’s not like she didn’t figure out where I was.”

“You –”  Castiel stopped when both Sam and Gabriel turned.  “Thank you,” he said abruptly.  “I will.”

“Yeah, I’ll...” Jo started.  Castiel was gone.  “Just go,” she said.  “Too.”

It took her longer, but Gabriel didn’t really care.  “She wanted to sit with you,” Gabriel said.

Sam blinked.  “Who?  Maribel?”

That wasn’t what they were talking about?  “Yes?” Gabriel said.

“Good,” Sam said.  He looked just as confused.  “Thanks for inviting her in.”  He hesitated, then he shook his head.  “Look, I have to go.  Are you –”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, impatient when she didn’t seem to get it.

She scoffed.  “Obviously.  Why wouldn’t I be?”

Sam opened his mouth, then shook his head.  “Forget it.  Just – it doesn’t matter.  I gotta go.”

“Sam.”  She’d wanted him to be waiting in her pocket dimension, where she could make time do whatever she wanted, but he had to go and tell her to settle for this.  How could this ever be enough?  Making a face, she muttered, “Thanks.”

She didn’t mean it, and he didn’t accept it.  “Gabriel,” he said.

“What?” she snapped.  “What do you want from me now?  Confession?  Repentance?  Purity?  Well, you can’t have it.  You can’t have everything.  When it comes to you and me, you probably can’t have anything.  So get over it.”

Weirdly, this made Sam smile.  Not rueful, not apologetic... just soft.  Sweet, almost, as he snuck up on her.  If she was too distracted trying to figure out where that smile came from to realize he didn’t just mean to tower over her, she would never admit it.  Because Sam laid a hand on her cheek and kissed her before she could shove him away.

 _What are you doing?_ she demanded, but of course he couldn’t hear her.

“Just you,” Sam whispered, breath ghosting over her mouth as he drew back.  “I just want you.”

“Then you’re fucking stupid,” Gabriel hissed.  “I’m not available.  I’m not wantable.  I don’t want anyone.”

“Maybe not,” Sam said quietly.  His palm was warm against her cheek and his thumb drifted over her skin.  “But I think you need someone.”  His gaze rose to meet hers again.  “I think you need me.”

“Oh, and when did you decide that?” she retorted.  “Kind of a revelation for you, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t decide,” Sam admitted.  “I just know.”

“Because you saw the kids.”  Gabriel glared at him.  “They’re not real, you know.  They’re just some stupid thing Michael dreamed up.  You don’t have to be faithful to a dream.”

“Because I saw you,” Sam corrected gently.  “Last night.  I feel like I saw the real you.  I liked it.”

“This is the real me,” she snapped.  “I’m mean and vindictive and bitter.  And old, Sam.  You’ll never understand how old I am.  You’ll never understand me.”

“I like not understanding,” he said.  “It’s kind of a new thing for me.”

Gabriel snorted.  “Forget it.  I’m not falling for it.”

Sam’s phone buzzed, and she could see his entire focus shift.  The kids would be late.  He had to interrogate Lucifer.  Sam’s hand dropped from her face, reaching for his phone, and she caught it before it could get there.  It took almost a second for his reflexive flinch to relax and let her lift his hand again.

“I’d fall for you,” Gabriel said.  She kissed the third finger on his hand, and Sam’s expression softened.  “Don’t make me.”

“I’d never –”

She was gone before he could finish.  She didn’t have time for this.

 _Aramel,_ she thought.  _Busy.  Back up Sam while I’m gone._

 _Understood,_ Aramel replied.

Gabriel doubted that, but she had other battles.  So Lucifer was allowed to be alone with Sam.  His henchmen weren’t, and she wasn’t going to let Michael’s stupidly overblown faith in Sam endanger his life.  Castiel and Dean were keeping news of the horsemen from the rest of the choir, but they weren’t keeping it from her.

It took her ten minutes to follow the omens to their source.

It took her two hours to understand exactly how wrong Michael had been.

“Okay,” Sam said, banging on her ribcage and making her grace splinter with every word.  “Give me one reason why you shouldn’t snap us back to the Roadhouse five minutes ago.”

Considering she couldn’t even lift her head, that didn’t seem like his most solid plan ever.  She clenched her fingers, trying to find something that didn’t shift like water in the wind.  Turned out the illusion of the apocalypse was powered by the strength of the observer.  Not by the horseman itself.

“Other than the fact that you obviously can’t,” Sam was saying.  “So how about I give you another one: I don’t think we can afford to let that thing wander around much longer.  People are turning cannibal out there.”

Gabriel wanted to ask what he was doing here, except that she was pretty sure he had already told her.  She couldn’t sort out where they were or what he was doing.  She didn’t think she was dead, and she thought she’d know if he was, so that was something.  But the choir was a mess, a hallucinatory, mindless mess that she’d had to tune out or risk being driven insane.

More insane than she already was, anyway.

“You’re not crazy,” Sam said.

If she’d said that out loud, her perception was... well, just as screwed as she thought it was.  Sam was lucky that his was the only voice she would listen to whether it was real or not, and her hallucinations of Sam hadn’t – so far – told her to do anything stupid.  Totally wrong.  There wasn’t anything _that_ special about Sam.

“At least,” he was saying, “no more than usual.  Which, I grant you, isn’t saying much.  I’d tell you what’s going on, but you’ve gotta be tired of hearing it by now and I’m still not sure you understand anything I’m saying.  I hope you’re aware, though, that I know exactly why you’re here.  And yes, I plan on bringing it up later.  A lot.”

 _Sam,_ she thought.  How had he heard her before?

“I’m really good at this,” Sam was telling her.  “I mean, I ride with Dean.  I can carry on a one-sided conversation all day.”

At least he was funny.

“Yeah, my one redeeming virtue,” Sam said.  He sounded, maybe, slightly less tense?  She couldn’t really tell what she was hearing.  Or seeing.  Or feeling.  If she was feeling anything at all.  The choir was silent.  Was it supposed to be silent?

“Cas cut you off,” Sam offered.  “Apparently it’s a thing he can do.  He wanted to come help you himself, but... it’s kind of crazy out there.  He said the less you could hear, the better off you’d be.  The horsemen twist your awareness, so.  The more you have, the more messed up you get.  Cas said cutting you off might help.”

“Might,” Gabriel gasped, the sky splitting open as she crashed, hard, onto earth and humanity and awareness.  She didn’t remember screaming, afterwards, but something collapsed on top of her and she could feel her hands again.  She could feel her arms, her legs – she didn’t have arms and legs, but she could feel them.

“Sam.”  She twisted, hard, but she was stuck in a human body and everything felt harsh and clumsy around her.

Sam had stopped talking.

Gabriel lurched into something that might have been a sitting position.  Her wings.  The feeling of wings hadn’t come back, the feeling of the garrison behind her, the things in between human and angel that she should have been able to feel even if she was bound to this corporeal form.  She was just a tiny collection of humanity on an old and battered couch, the air dusty and crackling around her.

“Hey,” Sam said carefully.  He was crouched an arms’ length away, one hand above his head like he was waiting for something to fall.  Probably the debris hovering in the air.  As Gabriel watched, his hand twitched and it all went sliding away.  Down.  Clattering harmlessly to the ground.

“Where –”  She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask this question.  “Where did that come from?”

“You,” Sam said, studying her.  He made the crouch look relaxed, but he didn’t move any closer.  “How are you feeling?”

She didn’t think “bad” would really cover it.  “What happened to my wings?”

Sam’s gaze flicked past her shoulders.  “What do you mean?”

“I can’t feel them,” she said evenly.  “I can’t feel anything.”

Sam frowned.  “Nothing?”

“This –”  She didn’t dare move again.  “Body.  I feel my body.  My human body.  That’s it.”

“Huh.”  Sam looked puzzled, but nowhere near worried enough to understand.  Or maybe she didn’t understand.  The world was – she wasn’t sure she was even awake right now.  “Cas must have done that.  To save you from Famine.

“You’re fine,” he added quickly.  “He’ll put you back.  Your wings –”  Sam’s eyes shifted past her again, and if he didn’t dare smile, his expression still softened.  “They’re fine.  I can see them.  You can’t feel them at all?”

“Where are we?” Gabriel demanded.  She didn’t like other people knowing more than she did.  Even if it was a dream.

“Where do you think?” Sam countered.  “That was a fucking stupid stunt, Gabriel.  I don’t know what you think you have to prove, but we need you to be smarter than that.  That’s something Dean would do, okay?  What does that tell you?”

“Not much,” she admitted, bracing herself to shift slightly.  Body: working.  As well as a human body ever did.  Couch.  Messed up walls, disaster of a floor.  Hard to tell how much the place was just a wreck and how much of it she’d caused herself.  “Since I don’t really know what I did.”

“Oh, God,” Sam groaned.  “Don’t tell me you don’t remember.  How much?”

Gabriel narrowed her eyes at the door.  There was a salt line in front of it.  The windows, too.  The walls had suspiciously familiar-looking gouges in them, and she couldn’t help it anymore.  She thrust her hand back over her shoulder.

A bright chill slid over her skin, soft and solid and a tiny bit of tension trickled out of her.  He wasn’t lying.  She could touch them, even if she couldn’t feel them.  It was like being numb.  Really, completely numb.  And deaf, she decided, poking at the emptiness around her thoughts.  And mute.  Senseless except for stupid human sights and sounds and smells.

How very charming.

“Gabriel,” Sam said.

“It’s not that I don’t remember,” she said.  “It’s more that I don’t feel like I’m really here.  Are you sure I’m conscious?”

For a second, Sam was speechless, and she smirked.  Worth it.

“ _I’m_ here,” he said at last.  “Doesn’t that tell you anything?”

“Not really,” Gabriel said.  “You’re pretty much always here.  Your voice, though.”  She frowned suddenly.  “It didn’t get messed up during...”  She waved a hand at the destruction around them.  “You got any guesses on that?”

“Gabriel,” Sam said.  “Tell me what you remember.”

“I’d rather not,” she said.

“Do you remember going after Famine?” he insisted.

“Okay, yes, look,” Gabriel snapped.  “In retrospect, maybe not as effective as I’d hoped.  But just to be clear, I’m not sorry I disobeyed your brother.  I’m just pissed that you ended up here anyway, pulling my ass out of the metaphorical fire, after I went to a not insignificant amount of trouble to keep you away.”

“What, because I complained about angel hours this morning?” Sam retorted.  “I’m not a child, Gabriel; I can pull my own weight!”

“You’re human and I don’t want you to die!” she shouted.  “I’m allowed to protect members of my garrison!”

“And I’m allowed to yell at you when you leave that garrison undefended!” Sam exclaimed.  “You could hear Zachariah!  What did you think he was doing?  Just screwing around?  What the hell were you thinking?”

Gabriel flung herself outward and hit nothing but _nothing._   She couldn’t hear, she couldn’t see, anything could be happening and she was trapped.  Trapped and human and it could be the end of the world, for all she knew.  Heaven knew she’d been waiting.

“Gabriel!” Sam shouted.  The rumble around her was real, the crash and tear of drywall and wood.  She could feel the vibration shaking her but she didn’t –

“Gabriel!” Sam yelled again.  “Not helping!  They’re okay!  Cut it out!”

“It’s not me!” she shouted, but it was.  She knew it.  She couldn’t control it.  Her wings shouldn’t be hitting anything, they shouldn’t be solid enough to do this kind of damage, and she couldn’t _feel_ them.  She couldn’t stop them.  She couldn’t stop any of it.

“Gabriel.”  Sam was on top of her, out of his crouch for the first time since she’d opened her eyes.  His weight was enough to hold her seizing body down, fierce and hot and frightening because she knew exactly how much damage she could do.  She knew what it would take to kill him, and it was a lot less than this.

He pressed his mouth to hers.  It was stupid and reckless.  It was all she could feel for a heartbeat, maybe two.  She could feel her heartbeat.  She could feel her breath.  She was human, and Sam was kissing her.

Gabriel felt his grip on her shoulders ease as they relaxed.  She tried not to think, because it was so obvious she might accidentally rip the hasty patch job off: he was trying to distract her.  It had to be working; her wings were steadying underneath her.  She didn’t want to know why.  She didn’t want to understand.

“Hey,” Sam said quietly.  Maybe.  She could hear him over the sound of blood pounding in her ears, and that seemed pretty freakin’ loud right now.  Sam kissed her again, softer this time.  “Sorry,” he whispered, his cheek brushing against hers as he spoke into her ear.  “That was rude, I know.”

Gabriel let all her breath out in a sigh.  “Well, on a scale of one to ten, I’d say kissing someone you slept with is like a one, and knocking a building down on their head is more like an eight.  So I still win.”

Sam huffed a small laugh, easing back.  “You okay?”

“Don’t move,” she said, anchoring him on top of her before he could get up.  “Tell me what Zachariah did.”

“He’s trying to purge heaven,” Sam said.  “He and Raphael are fighting.  Anna’s garrison took the gate, and they’re holding it so far, but Samael won’t back her up.  She says she won’t fight for heaven.”

“Not entirely surprising.”  Gabriel squirmed, but Sam managed to stay on top of her and her wings were nothing but a dead weight.  “We should go.  Call off the horse hunt and just –”

“We can’t,” Sam interrupted.  “Your attack started something, woke them up, or... I don’t know.  We can’t leave.  We’ve gotta get Famine now.”

“Them?” Gabriel repeated.

“Not War,” Sam said.  “And no one can prove anything about Death.  But Pestilence has gone on the rampage too, and Cas is trying to keep whatever happened to you from happening to Dean.  Right now, you guys are the only angels earth has.”

 “Uh, Sam.”  Gabriel raised her eyebrows at him, but Sam just waited.  Staring, yeah, but not with any kind of comprehension.  “I’m not exactly overflowing with angel, here.”

“Yeah.”  Sam shook his head, pushing himself back awkwardly and standing up.  He held out a hand.  “That’s supposed to help, actually.  Cas says it’ll keep you from getting shut down again.  The down side is that it means we have to find Famine the hard way.”

Gabriel stared at his hand, then up at him.  “You think that’s the down side?”

Sam didn’t lower his hand.  “You’re still strong, smart, fast.  You can obviously defend yourself.  You’ll be fine.”

Gabriel snorted, but she clasped Sam’s hand and let him pull her up for the novelty value alone.  “I can’t wait to hear how you think this is going to end.  You think we’re just going to stumble over a horseman of the apocalypse, and then... what?  Ask him to please hand over his ring?”

“We’ve done this before,” Sam reminded her.  “Just us lowly humans.  It’s not impossible.”

“Right.”  Gabriel glared at him.  “I can’t _see_ , Sam.”

Sam waved his free hand in her face.  “How many fingers am I holding up?”

She pulled her other hand loose and batted his away for no reason except that she couldn’t _move_ either.  Her wings were numb.  Her grace was stuck.  She was nothing but human frailty in a useless package.  “My eyes are fine,” she snapped.  “They’re not going to find us Famine.”

“They don’t have to,” Sam said.  He gave her a weird smile, and the explanation made her frown.  “You have your very own Famine detector.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Gabriel looked around suspiciously.  “What are you talking about?”

“Me,” Sam said.  “Famine affects humans.  I can find him.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Famine affects angels too,” Gabriel said.  “I don’t think wandering around town until I go into a hallucinogenic seizure is a winning strategy.”

“That won’t happen,” Sam said.  “Not with your senses turned down.”

“Then how are you planning to do it?” Gabriel demanded.

“Wander around town,” Sam said, “until I find some demons.”

Gabriel looked back at the salt in front of the door.  “Demons,” she said.  “Famine has demons.”  Of course he did.  Because he’d been sent by Lucifer, and Lucifer’s favorite lackeys were demons.

“Famine’s not as strong as the others,” Sam said.  “Not these days.  People starving all over the world, but I guess it just doesn’t compare to war and disease.  The demons are propping him up, trying to strengthen him enough to get a foothold.”

Gabriel folded her arms.  The only good thing about her angel blindness was that she couldn’t see Sam smile if she didn’t look at him.  She could hear it in his voice, though.

“Yeah,” Sam said.  “Congratulations.  You just got owned by the weakest horseman.”

“Look,” Gabriel snapped.  “If we have to take this thing out, we need to get a move on.  Even if Anael can hold the gate indefinitely, Lucifer’s gonna take advantage of the chaos.  We’ll never get the door to hell closed again.”

“For what it’s worth,” Sam offered, “he says he didn’t send the horsemen.”

Gabriel snorted.  “It’s not worth anything.  Where do we start?”

It didn’t occur to her until later that she’d just let Sam take over the hunt for nothing but vague reassurance and determination.  This caught up with her about the same time she realized it wasn’t her deadened senses that were making Sam look pale and sweaty.  It wasn’t the exercise, either, because whoever had sent Sam after her had sent his car too.

Aramel, she decided, staring through the windshield with a frown.  Sam was out talking to a man even humans should recognize as possessed.  Every passerby completely ignored them.  Really, she’d be embarrassed on behalf of townspeople everywhere if she didn’t expect so much less of them.

The car rocked, the door slammed, and Sam’s hands were clenched on the steering wheel for several long seconds before he reached for the keys.  “Right track,” he said.  His voice sounded strange.  Twisted, somehow.

And she’d thought she couldn’t read him before.

“I thought you were looking for demons,” Gabriel said.  “You find them, you just let them go?  Is exorcism too much work now?”

“Famine will know if we start killing his demons,” Sam muttered.  He was holding the key in his hand, but he hadn’t quite gotten it to the ignition yet.  “We can follow them back to him.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.  “And yet here we are,” she observed.  “Not moving.”

“We’re getting closer,” Sam said.  “I just... need a second.”

Gabriel summed him up as best she could with pinhole human senses.  “You don’t look hungry.”

Sam blew out his breath in a laugh, and it almost sounded okay.  “It’s not hunger,” he said.  “It’s craving.  Famine makes you crave what you can’t have.  Archangels don’t get that, huh?”

She shrugged.  “I can have anything.  What’s to crave?”

“Well.”  Sam turned the key in the ignition, and the car idled just long enough for him to look over his shoulder before pulling out into traffic.  “I guess that’s our good luck.”

They got close enough to triangulate some common sense in a church parking lot outside the only food pantry in town.  Gabriel still didn’t know how Sam was doing it, but she couldn’t argue with the results.  The closer they got, the more bizarre people’s behavior became.  What started out as amusing, even laudable from a just desserts point of view, grew steadily darker.  Hilarious insults and very public sex gave way to burst stomachs, drownings, and one little girl who looked like she was trying to bury herself.  Alive.

“Sam,” Gabriel said before she thought.  There was nothing she could do.  It didn’t matter.  Just one more human in a mass of insanity.

Sam didn’t seem to hear her anyway.  “Give me your sword,” he said.

He sounded awful, and when Gabriel shifted in her seat he didn’t look any better.  “Why?”

“Because,” Sam ground out.  “It will keep the demons back while I go in there and chop Famine apart.”

Gabriel frowned.  “I doubt that.  I, on the other hand, should keep the demons off you pretty effectively.  So let’s go with the plan that has a chance, hmm?”

“Gabriel,” Sam told the windshield.  The car was off, the engine cooling, and his knuckles were still white on the steering wheel.  “If things go bad in there, you’re not going to be holding the demons off me.  You’re going to be holding me off them.  You can’t take that time, not if you’re going to get Famine before Famine gets you.”

“Wait,” Gabriel said.  “Who’s getting Famine, again?  Don’t go changing the plan on me, Sammy.  My tiny human brain will be confused.”

“Don’t count on me,” Sam said.  “The closer we get, the less reliable I am.  Do you get that?  Tell me you get it, because we need to go.  Now.  Before I lose it.”

Gabriel wasn’t going anywhere until she knew what she was walking into.  “What do you crave, Sam.”

Sam choked out a sound that could have been a laugh.  “Take a wild guess.”

“Sex with me,” she said.

“A less wild guess,” Sam said.

“A Rainbow Dash My Little Pony?”

“Demon blood,” Sam snapped.  “I want demon blood more than I want to breathe, so let’s go in there and kill us a horseman before I forget why asphyxiation is bad.”

“Demon blood,” Gabriel repeated.  “Huh.  Wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“I’m flattered,” Sam growled.  “Can we go?”

“Do you want it, like, you want to kill them?” Gabriel asked.  “Or do you want it in a more vampiric sense?”

“You know what I don’t want?” Sam demanded.  “I don’t want to talk about it.  You get a free pass when it comes to your ghosts.  Let mine go.”

“My ghosts aren’t endangering you,” Gabriel pointed out.

Sam shot her an incredulous look, and for a moment he seemed totally present.  “Gabriel, your ghosts killed me!  Your past literally ran me through with a sword!”

Gabriel made a seesaw motion with her hand.  “You say tomato,” she said.  “I say, he who asks for a sword should be at least marginally less of a threat than the things he’s supposed to be using it on.  So tell me: is it demon blood in particular, or will any supernatural blood do?”

“Don’t,” Sam said, reaching for the door.  “Don’t go there.”

He was right about one thing: she was still strong.  She slammed him against the seat hard enough to make him think twice about fighting.  “Is it,” Gabriel said calmly, “demon blood in particular.  Answer the question before I find out for myself.”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Sam said through gritted teeth.  “This may shock you, but I don’t run around drinking people’s blood for the fun of it.”

“Well,” Gabriel said.  “Maybe you should start.”

“This,” Sam said clearly.  “Is not what I want to remember about you, Gabriel.”

She glared back at him.  “I don’t want to remember you turning on me in a roomful of demons.  Make a sacrifice.”

Sam closed his eyes.  Not totally past the point of theatrics, Gabriel pulled out his butterfly knife and slid it across her forearm.  “I’ll put it in a glass for you if you’re squeamish,” she offered.

Sam cracked his eyes open again and they were fever bright behind the glare.  “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gabriel said, pushing her arm into his face.  “I love you too.”

Sam’s lips brushed against her skin like a kiss, smearing blood and fanning his hair when he tipped his head down instead of tugging her arm up.  The quaint courtesy continued, even when his tongue darted against the split edges of her skin, sparking pain and adrenaline both when he started to suck.  She was too human for this.

His hand fell to her leg and he squeezed – gently – and then he was pulling away.  “That’s enough,” Sam whispered, his face turned toward the window.  His fingers curled around hers and he lowered her arm carefully, but he wouldn’t look at her.  “That’s fine.  Let’s go.”

“Does it help?” Gabriel demanded.  “How much do you usually drink?”

“It helps,” he said shortly.  “I’m better.  Come on.”

But he didn’t push out of the car, and Gabriel asked, “How much better?”

“Too much!” Sam snapped.  “God damn it, Gabriel, I don’t need another addiction!”

“What you don’t need is to wind up dead because you can’t see the bigger picture,” Gabriel shot back.  “If you’re fine, you’re fine, but if you’re not fine, I am sitting _right here._ ”

Sam finally turned to stare at her.  He had blood all over his face, messy on his chin and mouth, streaking faintly across his cheeks.  Even in his hair, damp tips where it had dragged over her skin.  “I’m better,” he said, and yeah, less shaky.  Still sweaty, not as pale.  Not quite so desperate.  “I’m not fine.”

Gabriel held up her arm with a pointed look.

Sam only hesitated a moment before reaching out and running his fingers over her skin.  It was a mess by now, blood everywhere, sticky and dripping and still flowing because she couldn’t quite reach the part of her that could clean.  Or heal.  But Sam pressed his mouth to her arm, soft and firm and warm everywhere.  Even places he wasn’t touching.

Because she was helping him, she realized eventually.  The warmth was contentment: happy that Sam had listened, that he was getting what he needed, that he’d let her give it to him.  The bruising ache that lurked just beyond his insistent attention was in the future.  He’d told her to ignore the future.

She shouldn’t be this out of it.

She didn’t tell him because he would stop and he was probably going to have to save them both, so stopping wasn’t really an option.  He stopped anyway.  “So stupid,” she heard him mutter.  Everything was fuzzy, and she couldn’t be sure he was talking to her.  “It’s like you try to make me hate you.”

“Humanity sucks,” she told him, or tried to.  It wasn’t like she hadn’t had practice with it over the years.  She knew this feeling.  She still couldn’t will herself past it.  “Gimme my grace back.”

“After I get Famine’s ring,” Sam said.  “You can’t even heal yourself, can you.”

She made a derisive sound.  “S’just a flesh wound.”

Sam laughed, and he hadn’t laughed like that since the morning, so he must be feeling better.  She couldn’t tell what he looked like with any degree of objectivity.  “Give me your sword,” he told her.  She could well be imagining it, but she thought his voice sounded almost fond.

“Mmph.”  She tried to reach for his collar, but the smell of blood distracted her.  That was actually kind of a lot of blood.  Not that it mattered, hello, was she being sacrificed?  No.  Then who cared.  “Hand over the ring.”

“I don’t have it yet.”  Now he sounded confused, which was just, why?

“The one you took from War,” she mumbled, shoving herself up.  Closer to sitting, anyway.  When had she slumped so far over?  Why was Sam still holding her arm?  Couldn’t be practical.

“Don’t,” he said.  “Stop moving.  I’m bandaging your arm.”

Of course he was.  “Like we have time for that,” she said.  The words were drowned out by the rushing in her ears, and wow, she shouldn’t have tried to sit up.  She kept talking anyway – or she thought she did, but when she could hear again, it was only Sam’s voice in the cramped quarters of the car.

“Castiel says if you put it on it’ll give you some protection,” he was saying.  He sounded worried, now, and she could feel his fingers against her neck.  “It’s getting worse out there, Gabriel.  I gotta go.”

“So go,” she muttered, reaching up to bat his hands away.  They fell away before she got there, and there was a fine silver chain around her neck.  The ring.

“Take this.” she said with a sigh.  “I give it to you willingly, to wield in righteous battle, et cetera, ad nauseam.”  Pushing her sword in his direction, she added, “Try not to lose it.”

Sam dropped his phone into her lap before he slid the sword carefully out of her hand.  It didn’t fry him where he was sitting, so that was probably a good sign.  “If something goes wrong,” he said.  “Call Cas.  You do know how to _use_ a phone, right?”

“What am I,” she mumbled.  “Older than dinosaurs?  Oh, right.”

“Gabriel,” Sam said warningly.

“I can use a phone,” she said irritably.  “What is this you did to my arm?  This is the worst bandage I’ve ever seen.  You didn’t even tape the clips down.”

“Dear God, why is your daughter so obnoxious,” Sam said.  Then he was pressing a kiss to her cheek – her cheek, of all things – and adding, “Love, Sam,” before he kicked the door open and flung himself out of the car.  Blood, sword, and all.

“Because I had to wait for a fucking deviant like you,” Gabriel grumbled, but Sam was already gone.  Probably hadn’t heard a thing she said.  What had she said?  Was he even strong enough to take on something like Famine?  Was he too strong?  What if he had too much of her?  What if exposure to Famine made him catatonic?

“Deviants,” Gabriel muttered.  Fuck, she was helpless.  “All of them.”

She forced herself up.  Next time she saw Castiel, she was going to kick his ass.  Assuming someone hadn’t already done it for her.  Even then she might help.  Would he have stripped Michael of his power too?  That was exactly what Castiel wanted, wasn’t it?  This had to be the perfect excuse.

Who had told Anna to take the gate?  She had that kind of initiative.  Where did Samael get off, rebelling against the rebels?  Gabriel should have threatened the hell out of her when she had the chance.  Would Lucifer back down if someone stole Adamel?  He seemed unnaturally invested in a half-human wisp of a thing that Gabriel could crush with two fingers.

Could have crushed with two fingers.  They were getting wilier, those kids.  She hated to think it was the human influence, but angels weren’t made with much in the way of self-preservation.  

 _Dearest Gabriel,_ she heard suddenly.  It was so normal that she almost smiled before she felt the whole car shake with the vibration of numbed and uncontrollable wings.  How the fuck was she hearing Sam?

 _Love your sword_ , he was thinking. _Amen._

Gabriel closed her eyes and pressed her hands together, ignoring the throb burning through the weakness of her right side.  It made her stomach twist.  _Please protect him,_ she thought.  _We need him._

She didn’t know what good the wish of one fallen, powerless archangel would be.  She didn’t know who could possibly be listening: not her brethren, consumed by their own battles and cut off by Castiel when the devil turned their strength against them.  Not their father, who’d long since given up on a world Gabriel had watched burn.  Certainly not Sam, whose inexplicable psychic blindness seemed specifically targeted to angels.

 _I need him,_ she thought.

The car rattled again, and she thought it was her wings until Sam folded himself in beside her, passing her sword hilt-first over the space between them.  “Hey,” he said, breathless and triumphant and grinning from ear to ear.  “Were you praying?”

“No,” Gabriel said.  “What did you –”

Sam held up a ring, his smirk and the meaning behind it unmistakable.  “Face it,” he said.  “I’m awesome.”

“You just left,” she said.  “You just –”  As soon as she touched the sword, every memory Sam had since she’d handed it over became crystal clear in her brain.  “You arrogant bastard,” she said.  There was more than a little admiration there.

He laughed, hiding the ring in his pocket and shoving the keys into the ignition.  “Call Castiel,” he said.  “We’re gonna have to get out of here ahead of the authorities, and somehow I don’t think you’re the type for a road trip.”

“I’m great at road trips,” Gabriel informed him.  “I make roads trippier just by being on them.  The autobahn?  All me.”

“The autobahn isn’t trippy,” Sam pointed out.

“It is when I’m on it,” Gabriel said.

Sam hadn’t actually started the car yet, clearly expecting her to be their ticket home, and when he reached for the phone in her lap she caught his arm.  “Seriously,” Gabriel told him.  “Worst bandaging job ever.  You should take a first aid class.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Sam said.

It wasn’t his worst idea ever.

It wasn’t comfortable, either, but whatever.  Sam was hot and clean and Gabriel remembered him splashing water on his face and scrubbing his sleeve over it as he strode out of the church.  He’d put the ring in his pocket to do it – the ring he’d just risked his life and probably hers to get – he’d let go of the ring, but not the sword.  To wash the blood off of his face.

“You made me do surgery,” Sam whispered, his fingers gentle on her skin as he tested the dressing.  Her arm was bruising something fierce, red and swollen around the edges of the bandage.  Definitely not her favorite part of humanity.

“I gave you tools,” she countered, more interested in his mouth than her arm.  “The fact that you used a pen knife and dental floss instead kind of highlights my point.”

Sam’s lips were curved against hers, but he didn’t pull away.  “And you know so much about modern medicine.”

“I could teach you things about herbs you’ve never even heard of,” Gabriel informed him.

“Very modern,” Sam teased, kissing her again.  “This is the twenty-first century, maybe you’ve heard of it.”

“Says the boy whose reference materials have more dust than content,” Gabriel retorted.

“Internet,” Sam countered, bracing his free hand on the passenger door.

Gabriel scoffed.  “Ritual.”

Sam smirked back at her.  “Cell phones.”

“Magic,” Gabriel said.

Sam raised an eyebrow.  “Show me.”

Gabriel rolled her eyes.  “What am I, a trained monkey?  Got a lighter?”

“Are those two questions related?” Sam asked, watching her reach over her shoulder.  He was close enough that she could feel his words on her face, and if she could move her wings, he’d be a lot closer.  She could touch them, though, and Gabriel ran her index finger under a feather before holding it up in front of her face.

“Lighter,” she prompted.

“Uh.”  Sam’s hand left her injured arm, patting his coat pocket, and he sat back a little as he held it up.  “Yeah?”

“Light it,” Gabriel said.

A tiny fire sparked to life, and she sent a puff of air across her finger toward the flame.  Her breath made the flame dance.  Little golden sparkles flared blue and green, falling around the lighter and tumbling down Sam’s hand.  He pulled his face back, surprised, but he held the lighter steady.  “What is that?”

“Magic,” Gabriel said.  “You’re welcome.”

Sam sat farther back, pulling his other hand away from the door and running it over the one that held the lighter.  The sparkles were already fading, but they moved when he trailed his fingers through them and a smile broke over his face.  “Cool.”

“Simple minds,” she said with a sigh.

Sam let the lighter go out.  “Where’d you learn such a harmless trick?”

“Contrary to popular belief,” Gabriel said, “pagan gods can’t spend all their time exacting revenge and accepting sacrifices.  Not that I didn’t try.”

Sam shook his head, still smiling as he lowered his hand.  “If anyone could do it,” he said.  “It would be you.”

“Yes,” Gabriel agreed.  “Can I get a kiss for that?”

“Give me my phone,” Sam said.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but as soon as he had the phone he leaned in and kissed her mouth.  And thumbed his blackberry.  “Are you calling Cas while you –”

Sam kissed her again.  “I can multitask.  Hey,” he added, falling back into his seat.  “Cas.  We won.  Gabe needs her grace back.  Can you do it?”

“Gabe?” she repeated.  “Since when do you call me Gabe, Sammy?”

Then the choir was singing and the sun came through the window bright enough to light up Sam’s soul and she took what felt like her first breath all day.  Her wings stretched, sliding effortlessly through the sides of the car and out into the evening air.  She found the girl with the shovel and brushed memories of the day away, healing bruises and a broken toe as she went.  She found the girl’s uncle and was a little disappointed he was already dead.  She sent the girl to her older sister’s doorstep two states away and pressed the doorbell.

“Show-off,” Sam was saying.  “No, not you – thanks, Cas.”

Anael had emptied her garrison to take the gates of heaven, and the saints were the only reason she was holding them.  The saints, whose most recent orders came from Michael himself.  They stood with Anna.  And they were the ones with the keys.

Gabriel’s garrison, on the other hand.

“Yeah,” she heard Sam say.  “We will – we’re there,” he corrected, as the church parking lot turned to sand and gravel outside the Roadhouse.  “Do you guys need help?”

Gabriel didn’t bother with the door.  She stood outside the Roadhouse and stared until the wards, dull and steely in the oncoming twilight, gleamed bright and fierce against the shadows.  The door of Sam’s car slammed behind her, and she heard every motion of the footsteps that brought him to her side.

“He said ‘the situation’s under control,’” Sam reported.  “Then he hung up.  I don’t know about you, but I’m worried.”

Because Sam was worried, Gabriel reached out for them, but Michael was clearly toying with Pestilence and there was nothing wrong with Castiel.  “They’re fine,” she said.  The problem was that without them, the angels of earth were outnumbered and Raphael’s forces were pinned down by Zachariah in heaven.  “Anna’s under siege.”

“Can we help her?” Sam asked.  “Is Raphael still on our side?”

“I don’t know who I trust less at this point,” Gabriel muttered.  “Raphael won’t fight for earth.  Samael won’t fight for heaven.  Zachariah’s tearing his way toward earth; Lucifer’s bulling his way out of hell.  That leaves you, me, Anna, and Michael.  And we’re all...”

“Come inside,” Sam interrupted, putting a hand on her shoulder.  “We have a war room for this.”

That was news to her, but more importantly:  “Me, Anna, and Michael,” she repeated, not moving.  “You notice anything funny about that?”

“You all highlight your hair?” Sam said.

“We all gave up heaven for humanity,” Gabriel said.

“Okay,” Sam said.  “Well, thanks for that.  Let’s go inside.”

“We’re gonna be crushed,” Gabriel said.  “That’s the plan.  The three of us get ground through the jaws of a civil war, and what comes out the other side?  Nothing.  We’re screwed.”

Sam huffed out an impatient sigh.  “That’s not my plan,” he told her.  “And I have to tell you, that’s awfully fatalistic for someone who was praying for divine intervention in a church parking lot not half an hour ago.”

“I wasn’t praying,” she snapped.

“Well,” Sam said, putting his free hand on her other shoulder and turning her toward the door.  “Maybe you should start.  I find it’s very relaxing.”

“Juggling is relaxing,” Gabriel said.  “Prayer is an exercise in futility.”

Normally, she could carry on any number of conversations at the same time.  Her awareness was vast and constrained mostly by priority: she paid more attention to the things she cared about.  Right now, Sam was in the top fifty, which was significantly lower than usual and still higher than any other human in the world.  She actually did want to hear his answer.

But she didn’t.  The fireball falling toward the Roadhouse drowned out human senses to the point where she had no idea what her body was doing while her wings wrapped around Sam and she growled, _Inside._   There were no words, no explanation or reassurance that would be enough in the face of that pure destruction.

Sam had thrown his arms up to shield his face, head bent and buried against her shoulder while her wings pressed tight over his back.  She could feel the floor of the Roadhouse under her feet.  She couldn’t see anything past the blinding brilliance of active wards, lit up from without by a greater power than this building had ever known.

“Sam?” Ellen’s voice demanded.  “What happened?”

“Gabriel!” Jo exclaimed.  “Are you all right?”

The children were all there.  Castiel’s three hybrid babies, Adamel’s anti-christ babysitter, and that girl, the daughter of Cas’ former vessel.  What she was doing there, Gabriel had no idea, but it meant that there were more children than angels, and the only thing worse than a full garrison during a time of war was an empty one.

All three angels checked in at once, the rest of the roster singing much farther away, and Gabriel finally let her wings fall.  Sam was lifting his head when Aramel said, _He told me to stay here._

 _Fine,_ Gabriel said.  She’d told Aramel to back Sam up, and Sam had told her to watch the garrison.  Aramel had done exactly what she was told.

If Jophiel might have done something else, it was too late to be pissed about it now.

“You okay?” Sam asked.  His hands were on her arms, sliding over her elbows to squeeze the place where the bandage had been.  At least her human eyes weren’t completely useless, showing his worried expression and rapid inventory of the surrounding area.  “What was that?  Why are the walls glowing?”

How Sam could even see the wards was still a mystery Gabriel couldn’t unravel, and there was something worth being pissed about.  “You know, someday you’re going to explain how you know that,” she said.  “In the meantime, someone should fortify Anna’s stupid student lounge.”

“Against that?” Jesse asked, pointing a finger upwards.  “I can do it.”

“I’m sure you can,” Gabriel said, but Jesse was already gone.

“What about Samael?” Sam asked.  He hadn’t let go of her arms.  “She won’t defend Anna; do we defend her?”

“I’m sure Lucifer has her back,” Gabriel said.  “You might want to step away, Sammy.  You’re causing a scene.”

“Are all of Anna’s angels with her in heaven?” Jesse asked, slipping back through the wards like they weren’t there.

“No,” Gabriel said.

“Why?” Sam said at the same time.

“Because her base is gone,” Jesse said.

“What kind of gone?” Wildfire asked.  She sounded more curious than worried.

“They’re all accounted for,” Gabriel said.

“Really gone,” Jesse said.  “There’s nothing where it used to be except forest.  Just trees and rocks.”

“Are you sure you were in the right place?” Sam asked.

Jesse gave him a look that only eleven-year-old boys could manage.

Sam shrugged awkwardly.  “Just checking?”

“They unwrote it,” Gabriel said.  “That’s what they’re trying to do to us, too.”

“But we’re still here,” Jo said.

“Our wards make Anna’s look like tissue paper,” Gabriel said.  “I suppose it’s too much to hope that Lucifer was caught off guard in Australia.”

“Gabriel,” Sam warned.

“I understand why you don’t want Lucifer around,” Adamel said.  “But why won’t you stand with Samael?”

Oh, this was just great, Gabriel thought.  Having three little Maribels instead of one.  Exactly what they needed right now.

The wards flared brighter than ever and Dean’s voice demanded, “Are you all completely incapable?  Aramel, get the back door.  Gabriel, front door.  Castiel, fire exit.  Go.”

Michael’s brain dump showed them all shorting out the ward capacitors until the feedback went all the way to heaven.  Like jamming a gun with no safety, it was just the sort of reckless retaliation that angels were good at.  They’d been built for this: mass destruction on a personal level, on nothing but the word of someone – anyone – purporting to be in charge.

But Michael was in charge.  There was no one alive who could countermand Michael’s order, and Aramel was already at the back door.  Filled with relief for such clear instruction, Gabriel knew.  She also knew that Castiel hadn’t moved, and Sam was looking at his brother strangely.

“What happened with Pestilence?” Sam wanted to know.  “Did you get his ring?”

“The apocalypse is gonna be short a few horsemen,” Dean said.  “What did I just say about the doors?”

Gabriel watched from the main door as Ellen demanded to know what they were doing, Dean ignored her, and Castiel dragged his feet like a human child.  Gabriel pushed at his grace, trying to figure out what was wrong, but everything was bright and loud and if the wards didn’t stop screaming soon she was going to rethink her position on numbed senses.  It wasn’t sounding so bad anymore.

 _Now,_ Michael told them.

The screaming got exponentially worse.  Not unexpected, but not pleasant either.  The wards overloaded almost immediately, and of course it was Michael who kept the energy spike from disintegrating everything around them.  Standing in the middle of the room, wings crackling icy white, smooth and weirdly serene as he shoved the almost-destruction right back where it came from.

Gabriel’s head mostly didn’t explode.  She was bound up in the wards and fake-frying them, however temporarily, made her life exceedingly miserable.  There were only two good things about it: it worked, and Sam noticed.

“All right,” Michael said, when the glow finally started to fade.  “That should send a pretty clear message.”

“You all right?” Sam asked under his breath.  “Can I do anything?  Did it do this to all of you, or just you?”

“Just me,” Gabriel gritted, fumbling for the wall and finding Sam’s shoulder instead.  “Wall.”

He put her hand on the wall without question, calling over his shoulder, “Dean, this is messing Gabriel up.  We’re not gonna have to do it again, are we?”

“She’s the one who wrote herself into the wards,” Dean’s voice replied.  “Which I’m guessing means you won’t be much good in heaven,” he added, frowning slightly in their direction.  “What if we moved the nephilim?  Would moving your anchor break the spells?”

“The children are staying here.”  Castiel’s voice came from the bar, hard and uncompromising.  “Gabriel will remain at the Roadhouse to protect them.  Anything that needs to be done in heaven can be done just as effectively through me.”

“Well,” Gabriel felt compelled to point out.  “Not just as effectively.  Maybe effectively enough.  Depending on what it is.”

“You’re better with hell,” Dean told Cas.  “Go find out what Samael’s screaming bloody murder for.  If you can fix it, good.  If you can’t, at least tell her to shut up, would you?”

“No,” Castiel said.

Dean’s jaw clenched.  “I have a limited number of archangels to work with here, Castiel.  If I bump into Lucifer, it’s even odds one of us winds up dead.  You don’t want that, do you?”

“I’m not leaving your side,” Castiel told him.  “You’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Right.”  Dean didn’t sound angry or annoyed.  He sounded... thoughtful, somehow.  “I see that.”

Calculating, Gabriel realized silently.  Dean sounded like he was factoring Castiel’s declaration into his battle plan.  “Aramel,” he said at last.  “You’re up.  Find out what Samael expects us to do, and then remind her that heaven just declared war.  This is no time to be making up problems.”

Gabriel snorted.  “Samael won’t talk to Aramel.”

Sam seemed to agree.  “Send me,” he told Dean.  “At least Samael recognizes me as a garrison leader.”

Dean might as well not have heard him.  “She’ll talk to Aramel because I’m sending Aramel,” he said.  “Unless you want to name a new second, we’re following the chain of command.”

“Dean,” Sam said loudly.  “Hello.  I’ll go.”

“Michael,” Castiel said.  “Sam should go.  He’s the co-leader of an earth garrison.  Samael will show him the respect he’s due.”

Dean barely glanced at him.  “He’s human.  We don’t have time to use civilian puppets.”

And just like that, Gabriel understood what was going on.  Her brain had clearly been on vacation.  Incommunicado.  Broken by the activation of the wards, distracted by Sam’s adorable solicitude, something.  Anything to explain how she had missed the beginning of the end of rebel sovereignty.

“Michael,” she said aloud.

“What,” Michael said, but she wasn’t talking to him.  It was Castiel’s gaze she sought out.  His blank expression couldn’t hide the pain in his eyes.

“Dean,” Sam said.  “You and Cas are going to heaven.  Gabriel’s gonna be here; I’m the only person you have left.  That Samael hasn’t tried to kill recently,” he said, glancing at Gabriel.

“Don’t fool yourself,” Gabriel muttered.  “She would’ve taken your head off given half a chance.”

“Before or after she stabbed me in the heart?” Sam retorted.

“It’s a terrible plan,” Gabriel said.

“Dean,” Sam insisted.

He got nothing until Castiel prodded Michael hard with his wing.  “Michael,” he said, nodding in Sam’s direction.

That was what it took for Sam to finally catch on.  Gabriel could hear it in the cold dread lacing his tone when he asked, “Dean?”  Just to be sure, Gabriel thought.  Or maybe a last ditch effort to deny what was written all over Castiel’s face.

Michael stared back at him, no recognition in his heaven-blue eyes.

“New plan,” Gabriel said.  “I’m going to Australia.  I’m taking Sam.  Aramel, no one lays a hand on these kids without getting your sword in his face.  Got it?”

“Gabriel.”  The expression on Castiel’s face was terrible to see, and she looked away before he could tell her she was the only acceptable protection for Dean’s baby girl.

“Michael.”  It was hard to say how much of their old relationship might hold – or how much she should want it to – but there had been a time when Michael listened to her.  “This one was blessed by Dad himself.  Might want to keep an eye on him.”

Michael did at least look at Castiel, but his grace didn’t shift at all.  “Yeah,” he said.  “Yell if Samael’s got an actual problem.”

Gabriel snorted.  “Because that’s likely.”

The corner of Michael’s mouth quirked.  He put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, and in a rush of wings and wind they were gone.  Gabriel wheeled, watching the wards sparkle in their wake.  That one, that one, and that one.  She twisted them hard.  Locked.  She debated tearing a fourth for a fraction of a second, and it splintered with a thought.

“Michael lets you make decisions,” Sam observed from somewhere behind her.  He didn’t sound anywhere near as broken up as he’d looked there for a minute.  “What are you doing to the wards?”

“He’s listening to Castiel too.”  Gabriel glared at the walls, but the wards were already resettling.  “Can’t tell if it’s deliberate or if Cas is just that annoying.  If it’s a habit, it may not last long.”

“You just locked Michael out,” Jesse observed.  “Did you do that on purpose?”

“Am I stupid?” Gabriel demanded.  “Of course I did it on purpose.  Don’t open the door for Dean unless Cas is with him and tells you it’s okay.  We have to go.”

“Are you okay to leave?” Sam asked.

Gabriel didn’t dignify that with an answer.  “Aramel, if anyone looks crosswise at these kids, I want you to scream for me or Cas.  Preferably both.  And take Michael off that damn list of yours.”

She moved Sam without bothering to ask.  Samael’s garrison was dark in the dawn and she felt Sam react to the heavy shadow of hell the instant they arrived.  It, too, had emptied of all but the stationary guard.  Unlike the rest of the rebel angels, though, she couldn’t feel Samael’s soldiers anywhere.

Not dead, she knew.  Disappeared.  Invisible, anonymous; they might be fighting or they might be hiding and no one in heaven would be the wiser.  Samael’s angels were the first of the fallen.  They would be the last to accept any sort of heavenly reintegration plan, voluntary or otherwise.

“Lucifer,” Sam said evenly.

The devil stood at the center of Samael’s base.  “Hello, Sam.”

“Thanks for the horsemen,” Gabriel told him.  “That was a barrel of laughs; really enjoyed it.  Do they do encores?”

“Yes,” Lucifer said.  “You missed one.”

“Something came up,” Sam said.  “Where’s Samael?”

“If you’re here to raze and burn,” Samael’s voice said, “you got the wrong age.”

“If you don’t want help, don’t ask for it,” Gabriel snapped.  “If you don’t need help, hey, message from Anael.  Quit your whining and send backup!”

“She’s holding the gates of heaven,” Lucifer said, “so that you and your homesick brethren may continue to walk the streets of home.  We’re holding the gates of hell so that earth may not be overrun, consumed in blood and fire and ash.  Would you like us to abandon our post to reinforce yours?”

“No,” Sam said quickly.

Sam’s role, Gabriel realized with a sigh, was to say the things she wouldn’t.  Didn’t seem fair, sometimes.

But then, what did?

“Michael won’t help,” Sam was saying.  “He’s gone to retake heaven.  At least, I’m guessing: he wasn’t really communicative, but he took Cas and if they’re back before Anna then I think we’ve lost anyway.”

Lucifer tilted his head, showing no sign of the strain it must take to hold back hell.  “Since when is Michael more interested in heaven than his precious earth?”

“Since he’s Michael,” Gabriel said bluntly.  “All Michael.  Dean’s gone, finished, kaput.  So long, messiah, we hardly knew ye.  When you went to carry a gun, your dancing days were done.”

“Gabriel,” Sam snapped.  “Could you focus?”

“This is me focused,” Gabriel informed him.  “I’m so focused right now, you have no idea.”

“I see,” Lucifer said, thoughtful and eerily reminiscent of Michael’s calculating expression.  “Did Castiel defect?  Or... reverse defect?  I never was quite sure what the term for that would be, since no angel’s ever managed it.”

“No,” Sam repeated.

“Maybe,” Gabriel said at the same time.

Sam gave her an irritated look, and she shrugged.  “If that’s what it takes to keep Michael...”

“He doesn’t want Michael,” Sam said.  “And you know it.”

“This is true,” Lucifer observed.  “Castiel has never given any indication that he’s willing to give up Dean.  If Dean is, as you say, gone, Castiel’s only interest in Michael must be revenge.”

“He’ll try to fix him first,” Sam said.

Lucifer looked amused at the idea.  “Michael is a force of nature,” he said.  “I don’t believe there’s anything about him that can be fixed.”

“Yeah, we can’t fix you,” Gabriel said.  “Why would we be able to do anything about your brother the opposite?”

Lucifer eyed him cooly.  “You must be pleased,” he remarked.  If she pushed him too far, he wouldn’t kill her.  He wouldn’t have to.  “I know how much you wanted Michael back.”

She felt Sam glance at her, then away.  She knew whatever she said next would be repeated back to her at some point in the near future.  She also knew there was no right answer: Michael was her brother, no less than Dean was Sam’s.  To betray either was to betray them both.

“Not much to be pleased about today,” Gabriel muttered.

“Why don’t you want Jesse here?” Sam asked, mercifully uninterested in a more specific answer.  “Couldn’t he help?  He offered to help at Anna’s, but the base was already gone.”

“He’s young,” Lucifer said.  As though anyone in the world wasn’t, compared to him.  “The anti-christ calls to hell.  He doesn’t repel it.”

“Anael’s base is gone?” Samael repeated.  “I heard no angels lost.”

“It was empty,” Sam said.  “Apparently.”

“The heavenfire,” Lucifer said.  “It’s purity through absence, literal undoing.  It struck this building as well, but ceased several minutes before you arrived.”

“That was Michael,” Sam said.  “He threw it back at them.”

The expression on Lucifer’s face was pretty clearly a smile.  “Of course he did.”

“Castiel knows you changed the wards,” Adamel’s voice informed them.  “We can’t tell about Michael; Father’s protecting us.  But Michael usually knows what he knows.”

The strange smile was gone from Lucifer’s face when Adamel stepped in between them.  “I told you,” Lucifer said, his grace crackling with menace, “to stay at Gabriel’s base.”

“You didn’t say for how long,” Adamel replied.  “Earth is our home.  We’re going to defend it.”

“We?” Gabriel repeated, exchanging glances with Sam.  The look Samael gave Lucifer was similar, if unreturned.  Castiel had entrusted these children to their respective “parents” with the understanding that their continued existence was paramount.  Gabriel wasn’t entirely sure they were _allowed_ in battle.

“Where,” Lucifer said, and his voice was stone.  “Is Jesse.”

Adamel didn’t look like he noticed.  “With Wildfire.  She thinks she can reconstruct Anna’s base if he helps.  Besides, you don’t want him here.”

“I don’t want _you_ here,” Lucifer replied.  The first hint of ordinary irritation had crept into his words.  Gabriel dismissed their confrontation then, because if Lucifer was annoyed then he wasn’t homicidal and that was currently her biggest concern.

“We need to go,” she told Sam.

“Tell Anna,” Samael said abruptly.  “I’m sorry.”

Gabriel snorted, reaching for Sam.  “I don’t think sorry’s gonna cut it,” she said, and Samael was gone.  Lucifer was a world away.  Sam was at her side and Maribel made her sword vanish the second they passed the wards.

“Don’t be angry with Aramel,” Maribel said, without preamble.  “You know she’ll defend us with her life.  But we can’t stay here and do nothing when the angels are stretched so thin.”

Huh, Gabriel thought.  They were finally picking up human slang.

“Where’s Wildfire?” Sam demanded.

She gave him an odd look.  “With Jesse in Montana.  Adamel told you.”

“He did,” Gabriel cut in.  “It’s a human thing, kid; you’ll get used to it.”  _The checking,_ she added silently, trying to communicate everything Sam couldn’t hear or be aware of without words.  _He has to hear it again._

“Oh.”  Now Maribel was giving _her_ an odd look.  “Okay.  We sent the human staff out to the barn.  I’m worried about Father, but none of us can get to him.”

“I think Cas can take care of himself,” Sam said.

“I don’t,” Maribel told him.  “If Michael knows he’s locked out of Gabriel’s garrison, then Father is the one he’ll turn on.  And Father can’t protect himself from anyone who looks like Daddy.”

Well, would you look at that, Gabriel thought.  Even the baby angels could differentiate between Dean and Michael.

“Yeah,” Sam ways saying.  “That’s true.  What makes you think Michael will blame Cas for the wards?”

“Because the wards protect us,” Maribel said, like it was obvious.  “We belong to him.  If the wards change, Michael will know it’s because of him.”

Which annoyed Gabriel, because hello, it wasn’t because of Castiel.  She wasn’t stupid enough to overlook a threat like that.  She wasn’t trying to protect the kids, she was trying to protect –

Maribel turned to stare up at her again.  “Father wants to protect Sam, too,” she said.

Gabriel rolled her eyes.  “Oh, for the love of –”  Of course he did.  What were they doing just standing around, anyway.

“Stay here,” she ordered Maribel.  “On earth.  Unless Cas himself comes along to give you a lift to heaven, you understand?”

“Gabriel,” Sam said.  “Where are you going?”

“Where do you think I’m going?” she snapped.  “Don’t let her talk you into anything stupid.”

With a completely gratuitous flash of light, Gabriel left the garrison behind.  She didn’t have to present herself at the gate.  She did anyway, and a sword blocked her way before she could get anywhere near Simea.  A very familiar sword.

“Gabriel,” Jophiel said.

“Hey, honey,” Gabriel said, letting her wings fall and holding her hands out to her sides.  “I’m home.”

Jophiel’s lips pressed together in something that might have been amusement, on earth.  “You let the children leave the shelter of the wards designed to protect them.”

Gabriel rolled her eyes.  “Hello, have you met them?  It’s not like I threw them out; they picked up their swords and walked.”

“Wildfire left with the human child,” Jophiel said.  “Jesse Turner.”

“Yeah, he’s about as human as I am,” Gabriel said.  “He’s kept Adamel safe all this time.”

Jophiel’s wings were very still.  “Do you trust him?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.  “I don’t trust anyone.  But Sam does, if that means anything to you.”

“What are you doing here?” Jophiel wanted to know, and Gabriel got that the friendly catch-up portion of the conversation was over.

“Looking for Castiel,” she said.

Jophiel just stared at her, and Gabriel sighed.  “Fine.  Checking up on you, warning Anael about Michael, and looking for Castiel.  Happy?”

Jophiel didn’t move.  “What about Michael?”

“He’s back,” Gabriel said.  “In a big way.”

Jophiel paused for the first time, searching Gabriel’s grace without apology.  “We saw him throw off Zachariah’s attack,” she said.  “Even Lucifer was not so ruthless.”

“Lucifer’s got other problems,” Gabriel said, offering her a tiny tendril of support.  “No one’s seen Dean since this morning.”

Jophiel’s grace responded, startling Gabriel with her acceptance.  With the touch of grace came the knowledge that Jophiel was very much aware of what Dean’s absence meant.  “We’re all in danger,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” Gabriel said.  “Even if we win.”

“Especially if we win,” Jophiel said.  She lowered her sword and disentangled her grace, nodding back the way Gabriel had come.  “Anael’s at the secondary gate.”

Gabriel took a step back before lifting her wings.  She was almost tempted to say “thank you.”  Stupid human habits.  It was Jophiel’s job, nothing more.

“Gabriel,” Anna said, smirking at her arrival before she’d finished committing to the location.  “I like the new look.  Couldn’t get Sam to go gay?”

“Castiel’s jealous of you,” Gabriel told her.  “Be more careful of the time you spend with Michael.”

Anna’s smile faded, and her left wing slid out of the way as she hefted her sword over her shoulder.  “There’s no love lost between me and Michael,” she said.  “If Dean’s really gone, I’ll do my best never to cross paths with him again.”

Gabriel frowned.  “You think Michael will destroy all of us.”

“No,” Anna said.  “I think he loves you like he loves Lucifer, and if there’s anyone he spares in his effort to restore heaven, it won’t be Castiel.  It’ll be you.

“The rest of us, though?”  She gave a one-shouldered shrug.  “Yeah.  I think the human sympathizers are screwed.”

Gabriel closed her eyes.  It was a futile gesture.  “I won’t kill another angel,” she muttered.  It would be her own death sentence, before this was over, and she might even welcome it.

“Yeah,” Anna said, surprising her into staring again.  “We heard.  That’s why Michael left you on earth.”

“Gabriel!”

She turned just in time to catch Simea, striding into her without hesitation.  They crashed together, and Gabriel wrapped her wings around Simea hard enough to make her tremble.  “Thank God,” Simea whispered in her ear.  “Everyone’s saying you won’t fight.”

“Why the hell would they say that?” Gabriel demanded.  Simea hugged her harder, and she didn’t pull away.

Anna’s sword had vanished, and she stood watching with her arms folded and a half-smile on her face.  “Possibly because you’re swearing to hell right now,” she said.  “Not heaven.”

“Maybe I’ll fight for hell,” Gabriel retorted.  “You don’t know.”

She could feel Simea chuckle.  “Do you need to find Castiel?” she asked.  “He’s with Michael.”

“Oh,” Gabriel said, rolling her eyes.  “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“In the dome,” Anna told her.  “Michael locked down both of heaven’s active garrisons.  He won’t hold the archangels, but he’s got the rest of them stuck in a stalemate until Raphael and Zachariah come around.”

“Come around?” Gabriel repeated.

“Word is there’s new orders,” Anna said.  “Michael’s going to re-establish the chain of command.  Personally,” she added, “I vote for just turning Zachariah into a bunny again, but no one asked me.”

“He’s going to close the gates,” Simea said, so quietly that Gabriel had to concentrate to hear her.

“Are you sure?” she murmured.  Looking at Anna, though, she knew it was true.

She felt Simea nod against her shoulder.

There wasn’t anything she could do, but she wasn’t here to stop Michael anyway.  “I’ll go find Cas,” she said, letting Simea go at last.  “Who knows, maybe the boy wonder can do something.”

“Gabriel.”  Anna sounded suddenly serious.  “Michael isn’t beholden to Cas.  He’s beholden to you.  Don’t get Cas killed, or I’ll have to smite you.”

Gabriel rolled her eyes.  “PS,” she said, making a face at Anna.  “Samael says she’s sorry.”

She could fly as close as the plaza.  The days when Michael’s base was open to all were long past, and even the archangels had been barred for millennia.  She didn’t see any reason to be subtle: he knew she was here.  “Michael!” she yelled, turning in a circle on the fake pavement.  “Open the door before I break out the toilet paper!”

By the time she’d turned back to the dome, Castiel was there in front of her.  “Gabriel,” he said.  “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  She smirked at him.  “Not really a party until I’m here, is it.”

He just stared at her, and over his shoulder she could see Michael leaning against the entrance at the top of the stairs.  “Lucifer says thanks,” Gabriel called, raising her voice even though Michael could hear her perfectly well.  “For turning off the holy flamethrower.”

Michael shrugged without straightening up.  “It was pissing me off,” he said.  “You should come in.”

“You should go home,” Castiel said quietly.  “Go back to Sam.  It isn’t safe here.”

“Hey, Cas!”  Michael’s use of his nickname made him flinch, Gabriel noted.  “Stop scaring people away!  What are we, the freak parade?

“You,” he added, pointing at Gabriel as he pushed away from the door.  “Come in.  We’re just having a little strategy session.”

Castiel didn’t get out of her way.  Gabriel walked up the steps toward Michael anyway, and he clapped a hand on her shoulder to steer her inside.  “Cas!” he yelled without turning around.  “You don’t have to hold up the sky!”

“What’s up with you and him?” Gabriel asked, risking a look back.  The doors were already closing.  Castiel hadn’t moved, staring out at the harbor instead of back at the dome, and the sparkling God-light that lit up his grace from within looked wan and faded in the bright sunlight.

“I dunno,” Michael said.  “Hero worship, I guess.  He’s handy, though.  Can keep track of the lesser angels better than I can, that’s for sure.”

Gabriel forced herself to keep walking, but fuck their lives.  If Michael didn’t know he was supposed to be crazy in love with heaven’s youngest angel, then one of two things was going to happen.  Maybe two of two things.  Castiel would destroy heaven in a fit of passion, and Michael would destroy earth in a fit of apathy.

Not necessarily in that order, she thought.  Hell was looking starting to look like the safest bet.

“You still call him Cas,” Gabriel observed.

“Yeah.”  Michael sounded thoughtful.  “That a new thing?  Since when do lesser angels disown our father?”

He didn’t sound angry.  Gabriel didn’t know what to make of that.  The Michael Gabriel had known would have crushed rebellion like that with a smile and a smiting.  An actual smiting – none of this bunny shit Dean had come up with – and maybe some natural disasters thrown in for good measure.

“Just following our example,” Gabriel said.  She thought she should probably play it off, go the cheerful and carefree route, but her words didn’t sound anything but grim.

“Right?” Michael agreed, and in that moment he sounded very much like Dean.  “Zach here knows what that’s like.  Don’t you, Zachariel.”

Zachariah and Raphael looked like boys who’d been called to the principal’s office, Gabriel decided.  But they didn’t know why.  They clearly had no idea whether they were about to be rebuked or rewarded.  They were understandably reluctant to assume either one in case it turned out to be the other.

“My loyalty is constant,” Zachariah said carefully.  “It is at all times to our father, of course.”

“Of course,” Michael said, giving him a look Gabriel couldn’t interpret.  “Gabe, do you think constant – and I’m talking seriously constant, unquestioning, absolute – obedience to an absent father is a good way to run a family?  Do you think we’re showing any growth, here?  Adaptability?  Viability as a population over the long term?”

Gabriel gave him a sharp look.  The question was more than blasphemy.  It smacked of analysis.  It smacked of reasonable doubt and peer review and impossible questions posed in the name of science.

It sounded, in short, just like Sam.

 _Castiel,_ she thought.  _How sure are you?_

Castiel was there before Michael could ask again, and she didn’t miss the way Michael’s expression softened when Cas appeared.  She also didn’t miss the fact that Castiel still had in and out privileges.  Even more relevant, though, was the look on Cas’ face when he saw Michael watching him.

“Really?” Gabriel said aloud.  “You’re gonna have a staring contest now?  ’Cause I don’t know if you remember, but that was kind of Dean’s thing.”

“I am Dean,” Michael said, without looking away from Castiel.  “You guys can go.  I need to ask Cas something.”

The frustrating thing was that she had no idea whether that was a good plan or not.

Or at least, she thought that was the frustrating thing, until she found herself standing on the steps outside the dome with Zachariah and Raphael.  Doors closed behind them, as good as barred.  No Castiel.  Definitely no Michael.

“What’s wrong with him?” Zachariah demanded.  “Is he suffering some kind of psychotic break?  Is he insane, or delusional, or... or high?  Being a human for that long can’t be good for you.  Maybe he has some kind of residual trauma.”

“Is it possible that he’s simply... impatient with our efforts?”  Raphael sounded like he was actually trying to figure it out, and Gabriel didn’t know whether that was hilarious or just sad.

“Look, the kid’s brain is fried,” she told them.  “It’s gotta be messing Michael up a little.”

“Why is he using a human body at all?” Zachariah complained.

“Wild guess?” Gabriel countered.  “He likes it.”

Zachariah sneered.  “Not everyone is you, Gabriel.”

“It’s not him,” Raphael said.  “It’s Castiel.  Castiel likes it, so Michael continues to wear it.”

Gabriel scoffed, because she could see where this was going.  Anything that put the focus on Castiel was bad.  “He doesn’t seem to like it much now,” she said.

“Michael had a journal,” Raphael said unexpectedly.  “Do you know anything about that?”

Gabriel blinked, but they were both staring at her and she wasn’t stupid.  “Yes?” she drawled.  Like she couldn’t imagine why they cared.  And seriously, if Michael had a journal?  Obviously a human affectation.  He also had a car and a leather jacket.  What was the big deal?

“Castiel’s in it,” Zachariah said.  “Be nice to know if there’s some bigger plan.  You know what I’m saying.”

“There’s always a bigger plan,” Gabriel said, rolling her eyes.  “Try to keep up.”

“Did Castiel find God?”  Raphael kept his voice low, as though someone might overhear.  “Did Michael help him?  If Michael knows where our father is he must tell us, Gabriel.  Castiel is not the only one whose faith threatens to waver.”

Gabriel held up her hands.  If she didn’t know better, she’d think Dean was in there after all.  The kid was canny, and Michael had never been one for half-truths.  Not until...

He’d met Castiel, she realized.  Or Dean had.  Or Castiel had met him?

Michael had a journal.  Good to know.

“I’m not gonna convince Michael of anything he doesn’t already know,” Gabriel said.  It was a fine line: maintaining her connection to Michael – and with it their respect – without actually supporting him in case she needed them to push back later.  “I’m sure our baby brother’s sudden brightness will make sense eventually.”

Zachariah was considering her carefully.  “I’m sure,” he said.

“Are we to wait, then?” Raphael demanded.  “Will we stand here until judgment comes?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at him.  “You got something better to do?”

She didn’t want to wait.  She didn’t want to be out here.  She had meant to keep an eye on Castiel, and she was supposed to be keeping an eye on Earth.  She couldn’t do either from here.

“Actually, you know what?” Gabriel said aloud.  “I do.”

She marched up the steps and banged on the doors, fist echoing deliberately in the deserted courtyard.  “Michael,” she said in a normal tone of voice.  It wasn’t like he couldn’t hear everything they said here.  “My garrison’s not frozen; I have stuff to do.  Gimme Cas or I’m coming in to get him.”

There was no answer, and she had time to wonder whether she really wanted one.  Would Michael’s silence be better or worse for her than his reply?  What about for Castiel?  She could still find him in the choir, hear his mopey self hovering near Michael’s aloof curiosity, but she couldn’t get his attention.

Not subtly, anyway.  Michael was too engaged for that.

The door opened.  Just the one: the one she’d banged on last, the one in the middle.  The one she was standing in front of.

Michael didn’t come out.  He stood on the other side, scanning the courtyard behind her.  Then he caught her eye and jerked his head to gesture her in.

Gabriel didn’t ignore the fact that he closed the door himself this time.  He stood next to it until it was shut, and she narrowed her eyes.  No angel needed to do that.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, the moment the door sealed.

“You think?” Gabriel said, glancing around.  “Seriously, this is just now occurring to you?  I can’t wait to hear what you think this _one_ problem is, because I can tell you –”

Castiel was standing to the other side of the door.  His grace was bright and sparkly and flushed with faith.  His hair was definitely messier than it had been before, and she turned on Dean in a burst of violent relief.  “Have you been in here making out with your angel while I stand around and make small talk with _Zachariah_?” she demanded.

Dean cracked a smile.  “Great conversationalist, right?  Straightforward.  Right to the point.  That’s what I like about the guy.”

“You could hear everything we said,” Gabriel retorted.  “What the hell was so important that you let that go?”

Dean shrugged, his eyes slipping to Cas.  “You really want me to answer that?”

“The only reason they haven’t tried to take over heaven is because they think you have some secret line to God!”  Gabriel narrowed her eyes at Castiel.  “Which, maybe you do.  The point is, it’s not gonna stop this forever.  They are one self-made decision away from becoming you, and two away from becoming _Lucifer_.  Call me crazy, but I think the world already has enough of both of you to go around!”

“I can’t tell them not to make decisions!” Dean snapped.  “That’s how we got into this in the first place!  No one thinks, they just do, and the world goes to hell because no one’s willing to stand up and take responsibility for their actions!”

“Here’s some responsibility for you!” Gabriel shot back.  She flung a hand in the direction of the door.  “You have the whole of heaven out there, in _chaos_ , because they don’t know if you’re going to shut them down or walk away again!  You have earth on the verge of an overdue apocalypse, and who’s holding it off?  Your brother!  The one who was supposed to bring it on is blocking the gates of hell with a sword and his own hands!”

“Look, if this is the day of judgment, then so be it!”  Dean’s voice rang unnaturally in the silent hall, and she had no fucking idea who she was talking to anymore.  “Let everyone else answer for their sins for a change!  I’m so sick of the entire world being on my shoulders!  If someone wants an order, tell them to look in the mirror!”

“Who are you?” Gabriel demanded.  “When I go tell Sam what happened, who do I say decided to abandon heaven?  To abandon earth?  You?”  Her eyes cut to Castiel.  “Or him?”

“Cas didn’t do anything,” Dean said fiercely, and that was what she’d been waiting for.

“Neither did you!” Gabriel shouted.  “I get that you want to be human, okay?  I get that it’s easier not to care!  What do you think I’ve been doing for the last two thousand years?  Nothing!  I’ve been doing nothing, but only one of us can be a deadbeat at a time, so if you’re going to take my role I have to take yours, and guess what, Michael: I suck at being you!”

“Well, maybe I’m tired of being me!”  Michael’s wings spread with a shush and a _snap_ as he threw his arms out to the sides.  “Maybe I give up!  This is a sucker’s game, and I want out!”

Gabriel rolled her eyes.  “You got out!  You got out, and you spent all your time trying to get back in!  You went all the way to hell and now you think, hey, maybe I can just keep him!  Now that you’ve got Cas, you think that’ll be enough?  You think you can just give the rest of it up?”

Dean glared at her.  “I don’t want the rest of it!”

“Yes you do,” Gabriel said furiously.  “You want your home, and your family, and your little neighborhood of brothers.  Well, news flash: Cas can’t be that!  He can’t be everything!  He’s just one person, and if you put all that on him you’ll crush him!”

“Gabriel.”  It was the first time Castiel had tried to interrupt, and his voice was softly inevitable.  Like the word of God.  “Let me decide what I can be to Dean.”

“No!” she snapped.  “You’re stupid in love, so I forgive you for being blind, but you’ll try and you’ll fail and I won’t watch both of you burn!  That is not _Dean_ standing there; that’s _Michael._ That’s my brother – my _older_ brother – and he is just as much a force of creation as he ever was your lover!”

Castiel didn’t raise his voice.  “Do you think I’m unaware?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed.  “I think you’re head over heels for an archangel who could destroy you by accident!”

“Stop,” Michael said.  His wings had fallen.  His tired tone wouldn’t have stopped her, but she’d already made her point and it did stop Cas.  “Just stop,” he repeated.  He looked more like Dean than anyone when he lifted a hand to his head and rubbed his face roughly.

For a long moment, the three of them stood there.  Just inside the door.  What caught and held her eye for several seconds was the coat, hanging off to one side on hooks she hadn’t really expected to see.  Not Dean’s.  A replica of Jimmy Novak’s beige trench coat.  It hung alone, like the retired jersey of a forgotten sports star.

“Okay,” Dean’s voice said at last.  “You’re right.  Gabriel’s right.”

“Dean,” Castiel said quietly.  “I’m not afraid.”

“Don’t say that.”  Dean’s eyes were closed.  “You only say that when you’re about to die, and man, it creeps me out.  Who’s not afraid to die?”

“Someone who has lived well,” Castiel replied, and Dean opened his eyes to glare at him.

“Let’s be clear on something,” he said.  “Death is not on the table.  No one is going to die today.”

Gabriel shifted, and Dean’s attention followed.  Minimally.

“Not to throw you for a loop or anything,” she said, “but you’ve got several garrisons of angels outside who say otherwise.”

“What I’ve got,” Dean said sharply, “is a bunch of whiny archangels inciting them to riot.

“I know,” he added, holding up a hand.  “I know, you don’t have to say it.”

“Well, as whiny archangel number one,” Gabriel snapped, “I’d say you’re setting a bad example.”

“Or you could say it anyway,” Dean said.  “You feel better now?”

“I’d feel better if you quit dicking around,” she retorted.  “You know the kids have decided to fight, right?  You got that memo?  It’s like you turn your back for a second and your babies are all grown up.”

Dean scrubbed at his face again.  “Yeah,” he said.  “I got it.  Look...”  He turned all the way around, staring out across the dome: lit up from within but not completely angelic anymore.  If it ever had been.  “The problem isn’t the gig,” he told the mostly empty room.  “The problem is me.”

Gabriel snorted.  “Oh, that’s new,” she said.  “Like we haven’t heard that a million times before.”

“If I could be sure...” Dean began.

“You can’t,” Gabriel interrupted.  “Welcome to reality.”

“That’s funny, coming from you.”  Dean turned to glare at her, but apparently that hadn’t been what he was looking for.  “If I could be sure that the decisions I make are mine,” he repeated, “then I’d say, okay.  I get it.  I’m on board, I’ll do it, I’ll lead this holy army until it stands down or tears itself to shreds.

“But let’s face it,” he said, glancing at Castiel.  “Even I don’t know what I’m going to do next.  As far as anyone knows, I’m on the fast track to crazy town.  And I’m not taking all of you down with me.”

“I suppose,” Castiel said, “that it won’t help to say we’ll follow you regardless.”

Gabriel winced.

Weirdly, though, it made Dean smile.  And to her surprise, Castiel smiled back.

“Well, hey,” Dean said, sounding more relaxed than he had since he’d ushered her in.  “At least I know you’re not lying.”

“And I know you’re not in denial,” Castiel replied.

“You guys are like the definition of dysfunctional,” Gabriel informed them, because seriously, _this_ was how they reassured each other?  They sounded like they’d been to marriage counseling.

“Actually,” Dean said.  “I think we’re doing okay.”  Just proving her point.  “Except for this whole Michael thing,” he added.  “Who knew that’d be such a downer.”

Gabriel raised her hand and pointed at herself.  “Right here.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean muttered.  He gave her a scowl that felt too familiar.

Like fond disapproval from an older brother.

She looked at Castiel, but he was still smiling slightly.  “Gabriel has displayed a significant amount of prescience when it comes to recent affairs,” he pointed out.  “Perhaps we should ask her opinion.”

“I don’t think we have to,” Dean said.  “I’m pretty clear on where Gabriel stands.”

“Bowing out isn’t going to solve the problem,” she told him.  “I know hiding, okay?  This is what it accomplishes: nothing.  Because at the end of the day you’re still you and they’re still them.  And you need each other.”

“Yeah, so, what’s the alternative?” he wanted to know.  “I tell ’em to do something, then I forget, tell ’em something totally different... how does that help anyone?”

“What’s making you forget?” Gabriel demanded.  “You said you wouldn’t.”

“You said I would,” Dean pointed out.  “You tell me.”

“I didn’t think you’d literally _forget_ ,” Gabriel said, rolling her eyes.  “I thought Michael’s memories would take over and all your Dean priorities would go right out the window.”

“Which they do,” Dean said.

“Oh no no, this is much weirder than that,” Gabriel said.  “You didn’t remember that Sam was a garrison leader.  You couldn’t remember why Cas shortened his _name_.  This isn’t just you rearranging your priorities to match Michael’s, this is you actually forgetting information Dean knew.”

“So?”  Dean looked from her to Castiel.  “When I first got my grace back, I couldn’t remember everything Michael knew.  Maybe this is just, like.  The same thing, but in reverse.”

“That’s so stupid I don’t even want to dignify it with an answer,” Gabriel informed him.  “But I obviously have to, because Cas won’t insult you by pointing out the obvious.  Look, here’s an illustration; it’s not to scale.  Michael’s memories?”  She threw her arms wide, holding her hands as far apart as they would go.  “Like this.”

She let one hand fall and held up the other in front of her face, thumb and forefinger touching.  “Dean’s memories?” she said.  “Like this.  Do you begin to grasp the difference?”

“What if the human memories aren’t compatible with grace?” Castiel asked.  “What if they’re not strong enough to retain an impression in the face of all that Michael has done?  Couldn’t they just be –”  His right wing twitched in something that was almost a shrug.  “Overwritten?”

“No,” Gabriel said.  “Why would I bother to remember anything?  How would I remember anything?  Don’t you even _talk_ to Anna?  That doesn’t even make sense; I don’t know why you’re asking.  The memories aren’t gone.  He obviously still has them, just look at him.”

They both looked at him, and Dean folded his arms.

“He’s not forgetting,” Gabriel added, peering at him more intently.  “He’s regressing.”

“No,” Castiel said slowly.  “He spoke of things... current things.  He knew what was happening around him.”

“Great,” Dean interrupted.  “I’m not totally out of touch with reality.  Sam would say that’s new for me.”

“Sam,” Gabriel said with a frown.  “You left yourself that – the thing.  With Sam’s kids.”

“The thing?” Dean repeated.  “Your stalker daydream, you mean?”

“Could we leave my issues out of this for two seconds?” she demanded.  “Thank you.  You gave yourself a trigger, as Michael, to make yourself...”

“Remember,” Dean finished.

“He knew this would happen,” Castiel said.

“Yes,” Gabriel said, pointing at him.  “No,” she added, swinging her finger toward Dean.  “You’re not in it.  It doesn’t help you remember anything.  So what does it do?”

Dean exchanged glances with Castiel.

“Have you communed with him lately?” Gabriel asked.  “When he’s all... Michael?”

Castiel frowned at her.  “You told me not to.”

Which didn’t answer the question, and wasted time besides.  “You don’t do what I tell you to do,” she pointed out.  “Why would you not do what I tell you not to do?”

“The communion thing is weird,” Dean said.  “When it’s just us.”

“Well, I’m not going to drag it out of you.”  She watched them look at each other again.  “Fine.  Don’t tell me.  I probably don’t want to know.  But if Sam’s kids are supposed to mean something to you, you’d better figure out what it is before you go all archangel on us again.”

Gabriel would have left it at that, but no, he had to turn on her.  “They’re not just Sam’s kids,” he said.

“Well, I don’t do pregnancy,” she snapped.  “So don’t count on them being mine.”

“They’re the same age as Maribel and Adamel,” Dean said, and now he was looking at Castiel.  “Is that weird?  Why are they all –”  He made a vague gesture that could have been anything, but Castiel seemed to understand.

“There’s no reason to expect their human appearance to reflect the duration of their experience,” he said.  “You look younger than I do, despite the actual difference in age.  The children are no different.”

“You left yourself a trigger,” Gabriel said suddenly.

“Yeah,” Dean said, giving her an odd look.  “Which part of that conversation are we having again?”

“Do it again,” she said.  “The trigger.  It worked for a while, right?  Give yourself a new one.”

“It’s distracting.”  Dean looked like he was thinking about it anyway.

“Sort of the point,” Gabriel reminded him.

He shrugged in a way that might have been agreement.  “I guess.”

“I assume,” Castiel said carefully, “that quitting is no longer an option?”

“Do you want to quit?”  Dean didn’t sound like he was kidding.  “You say the word, man, we’re outta here.”

“If quitting assured me you,” Castiel said, “I would even now be trying to talk you into it.”

“Aw, Cas.”  Dean smirked at him.  “You say the nicest things.”

“And you never take me seriously enough.”  Castiel looked more amused by this than annoyed, and Gabriel chalked another one up to marriage counseling.  She should find out who their therapist was.  Could probably do wonders for the kids.

“Okay,” Dean said.  “No quitting, no death.  That’s two options off the table.  What does that leave?”

“What are we, your advisors?” Gabriel demanded.  “You know what’s left.  Go out there and tell heaven to mind its own damn business.”

“You mean, stay away from earth,” Dean said.

“Far away,” Gabriel agreed.  “Earth has enough problems already.”

“Cas?” Dean said.

“It would seem somewhat hypocritical to bar everyone currently in heaven from earth,” Castiel remarked.  “Especially considering the desire we have to return here.  The garrisons of earth would come and go in either direction, while those of heaven would not be able to pass at all.”

“Lucifer calls earth neutral ground,” Dean said.

“Oh, good,” Gabriel muttered.  “Base your policy on what Lucifer thinks.  That’s a great idea.”

“He also said he would recall the horsemen,” Castiel reminded him.  “In exchange for the open gate.”

“We’re not discussing Lucifer,” Dean said flatly.  Whether he regretted bringing it up or just changed his mind, it was impossible to say.  “The gates stay open.  To all angels.  Both ways.”

“Are you gonna tell Zachariah?” Gabriel wanted to know.  “Because it’s not gonna mean anything coming from us.”

“I think Zachariah needs something to keep him busy,” Dean said.  “Some kind of hobby that isn’t destructive or divisive.”

“I don’t think heaven has any hobbies like that,” Castiel said.

Dean’s mouth quirked up, and really, when had Castiel learned to make a joke?  “Too bad we can’t trust him with anything that actually needs to be done,” Dean said.  “It’s not like an extra archangel wouldn’t come in handy.”

“You could give his garrison to Cas,” Gabriel said without thinking.

The way they stared at her made her shrug deliberately.  “Or not,” she said.  “Just a thought.”

Except it was kind of a good one.

“I mean,” she said, warming to the idea before they could move on, “Zach’s soldiers need some serious guidance, right, and if there’s one thing Cas here knows really well, it’s how to look disapproving.  Plus it would give him some actual authority, instead of just being the special glowy favorite of God and incidentally your consort.  Which, don’t get me wrong, it’s very cute, but it doesn’t seem to be working out well for him.”

Castiel was still staring at her, but Dean was looking at Cas now and that meant maybe he was listening.

“It gets Zachariah out of the way,” Gabriel continued, “and it gets someone you can trust up here in heaven to keep an eye on things.  It might be the only way you can risk leaving the gate undefended.”

Castiel didn’t say anything, but Dean was still looking at him when he said, “I don’t hate this idea.”

Castiel looked back at him.  “You can’t just transfer control of a garrison to anyone you want.”

“No,” Dean agreed slowly.  “But I can transfer it to you.  Your thing – it works with you.  I swore allegiance to you, and it stuck.  No reason we can’t assign other angels to you too.”

“He has special creation powers now,” Gabriel said.  “If it worked on you, it’ll work on them.”

“God wants you to be an archangel, Cas.”  Dean was wearing an earnest look that couldn’t quite cover the mischief in his eyes.  “Come on.  What do you say?”

Castiel looked from him to Gabriel, and hey, who knew her opinion mattered?

“Say yes,” Gabriel advised.  “Before he goes all Michael on you and we have to do this all over again.”

That made Dean’s playful expression fade.  “I didn’t recognize Sam as a garrison leader,” he said.  “What if I don’t recognize Cas either?”

“Putting the cart before the horse, there, Dean-o,” Gabriel said.

“I’ll remind you,” Castiel said at the same time.  He sounded remarkably calm about it.

Dean didn’t look convinced.  “Yeah,” he said.  “Good luck with that.”

“Okay,” Gabriel said.  “So that’s settled, then.  Can I leave you two lovebirds alone, or do you need a chaperone?”

Dean gave him a suspicious look.  “Where are you going?”

“Lemuria,” Gabriel told him.  “What do you care?”

It wasn’t until she tried to take off that she remembered why that was impossible.  She glared at Dean.  “Getting a little paranoid in your old age, aren’t you?”

Dean folded his arms.  “What, can’t make your usual dramatic exit?  _Now_ ask me if I care.”

“I’m leaving,” Gabriel told him.  She turned around, but she hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps toward the door – seriously, doors?  It was like being stuck in heaven with a human – before Castiel’s voice stopped her.

“Gabriel,” he said.  “Have you seen this before?”

The image that came with the question wasn’t earthly.  The only familiar objects were stone markers forming some kind of boundary, equidistant from her perspective, circular.  Tiny dappled leaves swirled in the air around her, so real that she spun, but the ground was solid beneath her feet.  The floor of the dome as the vision fell away.

“No,” Gabriel said curtly.  Cas was getting stronger.  She should have been able to tell where that was, who it came from at least, even if she didn’t recognize it.  She couldn’t.  She couldn’t even trace it to Castiel, except that he’d been the one to ask.  It was unsettling to have her perception so completely and casually hijacked.

“I apologize,” Castiel offered.  Like he could read her mind, jesus.  She was keeping her thoughts to herself and there he was, just _knowing_.  He really had leveled up.

“It’s a strange experience,” Castiel was saying.  “I only meant to make it clear to you.”

“Experience?” Gabriel repeated, bristling.  If this was some archangelic tit for tat, she would _own_ him.

“Communion,” Dean interrupted.  “We see it in communion.  But it’s not just a vision, right?  It’s a feeling.  It’s like something growing.  It’s bigger every time.  Maribel sees it too.”

“Only when she’s with us,” Castiel murmured.

Gabriel frowned.  “Wait, this is your – what is that?”

“Beats me,” Dean said.  “It’s no place or time we can identify, and there’s this weird nothing beyond the border.  Cas says it keeps him from seeing home.  Maribel doesn’t seem to see it at all.  The nothing, I mean.  I dunno, it’s just... weird.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel said, eyeing them.  “I can see how that’s new for you.  Do the other kids see it?”

Dean and Castiel looked at each other.  “I don’t know,” Castiel said.  “Neither Wildfire nor Adamel have mentioned it.”

“Okay, well,” Gabriel said, rolling her eyes.  “I can see you’ve done a lot of research on this.  Get Cas his garrison so at least he gets a vote if you turn all Michael again.  I’ll be on earth.”

She’d barely stepped through the door when she heard Michael’s voice summoning Zachariah’s garrison.  They were starting to appear as she made her way down the steps, and Gabriel gave a cheerful wave for Zachariah’s _wtf?_ expression.  Raphael didn’t look reassured.  She didn’t really care.

“Heads up,” Gabriel said, appearing on Anna’s side of the gate again.  “Michael’s putting Cas in charge of Zachariah’s garrison.  Good times were had by all.  See you on earth.”

“What?”  Anna looked stunned.

Gabriel shrugged.  “Turns out the boy’s not completely stupid.  Who knew?”

She left before Anna made her rehash the entire encounter.  She needed answers no one in heaven was likely to have.

“Hey, Sammy,” Gabriel called, appearing in the middle of the Roadhouse with a twinge of disappointment that Ellen wasn’t around to scold her for it.  “You miss me?”

There was a thump from the direction of the back door, and she heard it swing open.  “About time!” Sam’s voice shouted, muffled by who knew what and not coming any closer.  “You could’ve called!  Oh, that’s right: you couldn’t.”

“Not seeing how that’s a problem for me,” Gabriel replied, sauntering toward the back.  “What are you –”

She broke off with a whistle.  “You want me to come back?”

Sam grinned up at her, his eyes strange in the day-bright worklights that drove back the night.  He was on the ground, taking a break with his back against the dragon and one foot braced on the nearest sawhorse.  The other foot lay in the doorway, apparently used to shove the door open without him having to get up.

“What are you up to out here?”  Gabriel glanced over the makeshift workbench but couldn’t make any sense of it, and Sam had always been impossible to read.  His hair was a mess and he had sawdust all over his clothes, but he didn’t look like he was actually... building anything.

“Just keeping busy,” he said, letting his head fall back against the dragon.  Its tail flicked, the tip curling over Sam’s ankle, and he smiled.  “How’s it going upstairs?  Everyone enjoying the revolution?”

Gabriel narrowed her eyes, taking a closer look around the Roadhouse.  Aramel, Hanathel, and Katahdiel were on stationary guard.  Ellen, Jo, and Emily were asleep inside.  Maribel had gone to hold the fort in Montana, where Jesse’s freakish outpouring of power hadn’t gone unnoticed, and it was possible Adamel was with them.  Gabriel would have been more worried if she didn’t have a bigger problem right in front of her.

Sam was still awake at an hour late enough it was best considered early.  His eyes were too bright and his expression was too happy, and that wasn’t just coffee in the mug on the workbench.  “What’s up, Sammy?” she asked, lifting the mug and sniffing it.  She made a face.  “Not very smooth.  Let me guess: Dean makes it this way.”

“I’m not drunk,” Sam informed her.  “Everyone says that, but I’m really not.”

“I believe you,” Gabriel agreed, crouching down in front of him.  She held up two fingers.  “You want it gone?”

“Would I be drinking if I did?” Sam countered.

“Maybe,” she said, but she lowered her hand.  “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Gee, let me think,” Sam said.  “What possible reason could I have for not sleeping right now?”

“You were waiting up to see me walk through the door safe and sound,” Gabriel said.

Sam made a rude noise.  “Lot of good that would do me.”

She looked at him more closely.  “You’re coming down off angel blood and you can’t close your eyes long enough for exhaustion to knock you out.”

His smile fell away.  “You know,” Sam said after a long moment of silence.  “Sometimes I actually believe what they say, about you being an angel and the messenger of God and all that shit.”

Gabriel continued to study him.  “You and Dean have more in common when you drink, don’t you.”

“How is Dean?” Sam asked, rolling his head to look at her.  “He still being mean to Cas?  He shouldn’t.  Cas is a lot nicer than he is, but he doesn’t care as much about humanity.  He might let us all die if he thinks Dean’s forgotten him.”

“It comes and it goes,” Gabriel said.  She pushed his foot out of the way so she could sit on the doorstep.  “You ever heard of a step-down program, Sammy?”

“No,” Sam said sharply.  So he was more with it than his babbling would suggest.  “Cold turkey.  I’ve done it before, and it’s over a lot faster.”

She wasn’t going to argue with that.  “Want me to knock you out?”

“Yes,” he said, and the level of gratitude in his tone was absurd.  “Please.”

Gabriel reached for his forehead, but he caught her wrist before she got there.  “Wait,” Sam said.  “Tell me how it’s going in heaven first.”

“It’s going good,” she said.  “Penguins, dancing babushkas, the whole bit.”

Sam couldn’t muster up much of a glare.  “You’re really annoying,” he said.

“I know,” Gabriel agreed, surprised and vaguely pleased that he’d come up with something other than _I hate you_.  No matter how he meant it, those three words got old.  “I’m also telling the truth.”

Sam let her wrist go.  “Thanks,” he said.

Gabriel brushed his hair out of his face before laying her fingers on his forehead.  “Sweet dreams, Sammy.”  She watched his eyes slide shut, then murmured, “For he grants sleep to those he loves.  Amen.”

She turned off the lights and closed the door to the outside, because Ellen would complain otherwise.  The dragon didn’t object when Sam stopped using it as a pillow – she wasn’t sure it woke up at all, actually.  Reptiles with an unnaturally high cold tolerance weren’t her first concern.

Sam’s bed was unmade and he’d left the desk lamp on at some point: holdover from life on the road, she guessed.  Never walk into a darkened room if you can help it.  The room looked a little lopsided with the larger bed, but Sam was asleep so he couldn’t complain if she redecorated a little.  He also couldn’t complain about her removing his boots, and possibly his jacket, and getting the sawdust out of his clothes.

She knew better than to go any further.  It didn’t stop her from sitting down on the bed and pulling a blanket over him while she thought, _Maribel.  You need any help?_

 _No,_ Maribel replied.  _Is Father all right?_

She would have heard Michael reassigning Zachariah’s garrison, but even Gabriel couldn’t tell Dean from Michael at a distance so she assumed the kid was no better off.  _Yeah, kiddo.  They’re both okay._

That was the best she could do on an open channel.  Maribel didn’t ask again.  The kerfuffle that was an entire garrison being re-administered the oath of fealty wouldn’t die down quickly, and the less attention they drew within the choir the better.  Gabriel had no interest in any of heaven’s opinion on the matter, except as it might cause problems for Castiel.

Which meant she couldn’t sit here forever.  Or even the rest of the night.

Gabriel touched Sam’s hand, slid off the bed, and found herself in the hall outside the room Dean shared with Castiel.

She raised an eyebrow.  She’d been aiming for the room itself.  Apparently one of them had figured out how to block archangels.  Invisibly.  If she had to wake Sam up to come and physically open the door for her –

But it opened when she unlocked it.  She might still need Sam to _find_ anything in it, she thought, surveying the chaos with some amount of irritation.  One of their defense strategies must be confusion.  On first glance it was impossible to tell whether the room was even occupied.

It took her less than a second to search the entire room.  Longer than it should have, in other words.  Between the two of them they booby-trapped things by accident, but Castiel was refreshingly predictable when it came to his reading material.  Of course it would be his grace all over Dean’s journal.

Gabriel flipped the journal open, scanned every page, and paused.

She went back to the beginning and turned through it again.

When Raphael had mentioned Michael’s journal, she had assumed he meant the hunter journal that Dean’s father had carried.  But the book she was holding contained no words a human could read.  What it did contain was Castiel’s name in Michael’s script, written before Dean was ever born.

The crash behind her tore the wards and possibly the walls and the wash of grace was frantic and unconfined.  It was Castiel, falling into his own room, Dean in his arms, both of them going down in a tangle of wings and limbs.  “It’s me,” Castiel gasped, voice shattering windows and bulbs as he stared up at her in horror.  “It’s not him, it’s me.”

Dean was unconscious, so she didn’t see how it could be him anything.  “You,” Gabriel agreed, careful to keep her voice in the human range.  “You want a free t-shirt with that?”

“I’m making him forget,” Castiel whispered.

Gabriel felt her knee hit the floor before she realized she was moving.  She braced both arms on the other knee, staring through Dean’s vessel to the soul beyond.  “He hasn’t forgotten,” she said after a moment.  She lifted her gaze to Castiel, but his eyes were wild and dangerous and she was going to have to keep him here.  No matter what happened, she couldn’t let him leave like this.

“He doesn’t care,” Castiel said.  “I’m taking his caring.  I didn’t know; how do I stop?  How do I make it go away?  I don’t want it, Gabriel!  I can’t do this!”

“You can,” she said.  “Because you are.  Dean’s letting you.”

She had no idea what Dean was doing.  She had no idea what Castiel was doing, other than freaking out.  But it was very clear, in this moment, that Castiel was strong enough to do some serious damage if he didn’t get himself under control.

The words that echoed in her head were as clear as any archangel: _I don’t want this!_

 _Not good enough,_ Gabriel retorted, and the answering pressure could have knocked her backwards if she hadn’t been prepared.  _What_ do _you want?_

 _DEAN._

She would have rolled her eyes if his intensity didn’t crush the power out of her.  He was gathering strength from somewhere, rolling hard and furious like an avalanche that would bury them all without even noticing, and all she could say was, _NO.  You don’t want to lose Dean.  That’s not a_ want _, Cas, that’s a_ not- _want.  Pick a want._

His answer was unresponsive and inexorable.  _I want Dean._

 _You have Dean!_   She shoved the words at him even as he forced her down, his frantic fear pushing everything away.  _Dean is here!  What else do you want, Cas!_

“I don’t want this,” Castiel whispered, and the words were harsh and rough and the despair was contagious.

“You have this,” Gabriel snarled.  Like she didn’t know despair.  “You have this, you have Dean, and you’ll make it work.  Dean would want you to make it work.”

It could have backfired: Dean was his, and if she claimed even enough of him to manipulate Cas, the explosion might obliterate her.  Heaven’s youngest had never been able to take on an archangel before.  He shouldn’t be capable of doing it now.  But the weight of the air around her was so close to fire that a spark would ignite the room.

She’d never been afraid of Castiel.  Maybe she’d never been smart enough to realize she should be.

Then his grace slammed into hers and for the first time, she knew what it was to drown.

 _This,_ Castiel’s voice was saying.  But it wasn’t his voice, it was her voice, she was holding Dean and she was standing in the middle of the circle and she was talking to – 

Gabriel.  She was Gabriel.

 _This is what it does,_ Castiel was saying.

Gabriel was trying not to scream.  Justifiable, she told herself, because if it wasn’t justifiable then that was just one more reason for complete panic, which she’d made a habit of distancing herself from.  She wasn’t dead.  She probably wasn’t in the company of someone about to kill her, although she wasn’t totally sure about Castiel yet.  She was breathing, for whatever good it did, and her grace was still...

 _It does this,_ Castiel repeated.  _You get used to it._

She wasn’t connected to anyone.  Anywhere.  She could still feel grace, but it was all her own.  The choir was gone.  There was grace around her, but she wasn’t – it wasn’t – Gabriel reached out, and something about creation reached back.

Castiel slapped her hand away.  _It will take you,_ he said.  _That’s what it does.  It took Dean._

Gabriel frowned.  The words sounded sinister, but Castiel just sounded angry.  The urge to scream was being overwhelmed by the urge to know: where _were_ they?  There was nothing, she was nowhere.  No connection, no –

She looked down at Dean, eyes closed, head limp against Castiel’s shoulder.  She looked at Castiel: bright and golden and blinding, fierce creation blazing deeper than any archangel.  And she knew.

“It can have me,” she said, in a voice that was as close to human as she could be, here.  In this tiny, infinite space.  This proto-universe, that Castiel had created without even knowing what he was doing.  That he had taken Dean to, over and over again.  That his children had not stumbled into, but _come_ from.

That he was, even now, shaping into the kind of world he thought should come next.  A world fueled by his questions and his faith.  By Dean’s passion and his kindness.  If he wanted anything of her in it, then he could have it.  

Because who was she to say no to God?

“Wow,” Dean’s voice rasped.  “I hope this doesn’t mean there was a kinky angel threesome that I don’t remember.”

“ _Dean._ ”  The name on Castiel’s lips sounded like a prayer, a blessing, a plea.

“Cas,” Dean replied, wings sweeping through Castiel, grace pooling and rippling in their wake.  He was on his feet again, just like that, and Gabriel couldn’t imagine why he didn’t kneel.  Except that of course he didn’t kneel.  “What’s Gabriel doing here?  What are we doing here?  And since when are there swings?”

“You know me,” Cas breathed, and Gabriel thought he probably would have closed his eyes if he didn’t want to stare at Dean so much.

Dean waved a hand in front of his face and snapped his fingers twice.  “Hello, yeah, I know you.  I sleep with you all the time.  And then we do the communion thing, and we end up here, which is why I’m kind of creeped out to see Gabriel.  No offense,” he added, lifting his chin in her direction.

“Like I want any part of your freakishly vanilla sex rituals,” Gabriel said, rolling her eyes.  “Also, show some respect.  You’re talking to the father of all things.”

Dean made a show of glancing around.  “Who?  Where?”

Gabriel stared at him, because that was just fucking obnoxious.  “You _knew?_ ”

Dean raised an eyebrow.  “Maybe.  Maybe not.  I think the real question is, why swings and not pie?”

“Dean.”  Castiel sounded more irritated than reverent this time, and Gabriel figured that pretty much summed up their relationship.  Not a bad kind of familiarity to build a world on, all things considered.

“Yes, dear?”  Dean smirked at him.  “Don’t think I’m gonna apologize for passing out on you; that was totally your fault.  Although I’d like to think of it less as passing out and more as a manly... moment of weakness, if we could.”

He glanced at her and added, “Or womanly... moment of weakness.  Whatever.  Why is Gabriel here again?”

“Why do you remember being Dean?” Castiel demanded.  “I wasn’t sure you would even wake up.  This place – it’s been drawing your grace without – you said, it draws you.  It was literally drawing you.  And whenever Dean’s memories got in the way...”

“Yeah, I know.”  Dean waved a hand like he could speed the story up.  “Not as much of Dean as there is of Michael, I know.  Gabriel did this demo; I was there.  Guess you just never know which way those soul winds are gonna blow, huh?”

“Dean,” Castiel repeated.

“Cas!”  Dean put both hands on his shoulders.  “It’s okay.  You wanted some extra grace.  I’m flattered you picked mine, okay?”

“This isn’t worth that,” Castiel said, staring back at him.

“Okay, first off, this?”  Dean looked around, still holding Cas in the leaves and the light with the playground nearby and the stone markers beyond.  “Is totally worth it.  You’re building a freakin’ garden, Cas.  What does any father want if not for his kids to follow in his footsteps?

“And second,” he continued, “it’s not me or this.  I know it’s weird to have me space out on you like that – I get that, I’m sorry, okay?  And thanks for trying to keep me from doing anything too messed up when I’m, you know.  Super Michael.”

“I can’t,” Castiel said, and he sounded desperate and lost and afraid.  “I can’t keep you from doing things.  You shouldn’t be doing them at all.  This is hurting you, Dean.”

“It’s _not._ ”  Dean stepped even closer, and Gabriel spared a moment to be glad it was someone else this time.  “It’s hurting you, Cas, because it’s new and it’s weird and you don’t think you’re good enough.  But you are good enough, and it won’t be new forever.

“It is kind of weird,” he added.  “But all the cool stuff is.  So.”

“I won’t lose you for this,” Castiel said, and the flatness was convincing where the desperation might not have been.

“Nah,” Dean said.  “A little grace goes a long way.

“Besides,” he said, like he had no idea how serious Cas was.  “I think you’re using Gabriel’s now anyway.”

Just like that, they were both staring at her, and she tried to remember that kneeling was not really what she wanted to be doing.  Even if – not even if.  “If you’re building a garden,” she said.  “You can have whatever you need.”

“It may not be entirely a matter of... taking,” Castiel said.

Gabriel stared at him for the space of a long breath.  “If you think for one second that I’m carrying your little Adam and Eve around for safekeeping,” she said.  “Forget it.”

Cas looked at Dean, and she didn’t like that look at all.  She would know, wouldn’t she?  They couldn’t just do that without telling her.  Without her noticing.

Except that apparently Castiel had been using Dean’s grace all along, and Dean hadn’t had a clue.  And she had offered – when she first got here, she had offered her grace.  _It can have me,_ she’d said.  Angelic consent.

“I’m afraid,” Castiel began, “that it may be too late for that.”

She absolutely did not curl her wings protectively around the core of her grace like a distrustful child.  It was possible, though, that she folded her arms and thought angry thoughts about human pregnancy and virgin mothers.  “Can I at least sin after the fact?” she demanded.  “If you’re passing on commandments, there’s a couple I’d like to leave off.”

“I don’t think we’re really at that stage yet,” Dean said, so close to Castiel that she couldn’t tell their grace apart anymore.

So she pointed at herself instead.  “Hello, _I_ am at that stage,” she informed them.  “Thanks to you, I am way out in front of this garden thing.  And as impressed as I am by all of –”  She waved her hand around them.  “This, I’m also vaguely uneasy about the whole not being able to sense earth thing.”

Neither of them moved.

“So what I’m _saying_ ,” Gabriel prompted, “is that someone needs to send me back.  And keep your mouths shut, because I don’t know how much you want more nephilim making the news, but I can tell you that I want it exactly this much.”  She curled her fingers in the shape of a big fat zero.

“Yes,” Castiel said.  Like he’d just figured out where she was going with that.  “I also find the disassociation from anything known disconcerting.  Dean appears to be able to overcome it.”

“Do I look like I care?” Gabriel demanded.

Castiel considered her for a moment.  “No.”

“That’s because I don’t,” she told him.  “Warn me next time.  And congratulations on the promotion.”

Castiel just looked at her, and she glared at him.  “Well?”

The corner of his mouth twitched.  “I wasn’t sure you were done.”

“I am,” Gabriel snapped.  “Get your own messenger.  I’m not a hand-me-down.”

Castiel waited, and she could at least appreciate that he wasn’t smirking.  The way Dean was.

“I’ll tell Sam,” she muttered.  Because someone had to, and it might as well be her.  “Now I’m done.”

“Gabriel,” Dean said.  If she hated his expression, at least his tone didn’t make her bristle.  “Welcome to the family.”

If he’d waited for her answer, he would have been disappointed.  As it was, she found herself inside familiar wards without having lifted her wings.  Which made the third time today someone had transported her somewhere without her intent.  It was foreign and frustrating and if she hadn’t found herself in a remarkably comfortable bed she might have been more annoyed.

A bed she’d made herself.  The real one, in Sam’s room at the Roadhouse.

Filled with Sam.

“Huh,” Gabriel said aloud.  “Very direct.”  _I like the way you think, bro._   She didn’t bother to wonder if it had been Dean, because clearly this was Castiel’s idea.  He’d learned more from humans than any of them had realized.

“Mmph.”  Sam didn’t seem to appreciate it, but then, he was probably used to less space when he slept.  It was possible that he reacted badly to any hint of crowding.  He mumbled something else that she didn’t get, and the weird blankness where his thoughts would be meant she had no way to know what it was.

She supposed waking up someone withdrawing from angel blood wasn’t the best way to get on their good side.  Castiel’s thoughtfulness was probably wasted.  She sat up anyway, meaning to get out of bed the human way, and fingers curled unerringly around her wrist.

Gabriel actually looked down in surprise.  She should have known if he was awake, but he was awfully coordinated for someone still asleep.  Sam’s eyes were clear and conscious as he stared up at her from the pillows.

“Hey,” Gabriel said, because the sun was high through curtains she hadn’t bothered to close and who knew what kind of chaos the world was in by now.  “I’m pregnant.”

Sam groaned, letting go of her wrist as he rolled away from her.  Or shifted away – he definitely wasn’t used to having so much room.  He managed to turn his back and half-bury his face, though, and she heard him mutter, “Fuck off.”

She smirked.  “And they say telling your boyfriend is the hard part.”

“Just to be clear,” Sam said, in a voice muffled mostly by the pillow.  “Letting you put me under last night was not an invitation.  And if you have some weird thing where stuff you make is automatically yours – example, this bed – then quit making me things.  I want my own bed back.”

“Are you always this bitchy first thing in the morning?” Gabriel wanted to know.  “Or is it a detox thing?  How’s that going, by the way?”

“Lousy,” Sam grumbled.  “If you’re here, get me some coffee.”

Gabriel snapped her fingers.

Sam tilted his head enough to eye the cup sitting beside the lamp.  “I don’t actually hate you,” he said after a minute.  “Just so you know.”

“If I’d known all it took was coffee,” she said, “we could have skipped that whole bloody stake thing.”

Gabriel couldn’t see his face, but she could tell he cracked a smile at that.  “Did the world get destroyed overnight?”

She glanced over at the window.  “Doesn’t look like it.”

“Funny,” Sam said.  He rolled onto his back again anyway: tacit permission for her to stay, to keep talking.  “How’s Dean?”

“Weird,” Gabriel said.  “Freakish.  Mentally unstable.  Same old, same old.”

Sam put a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes and running his hand over his chin with a sigh.  “Seriously.  Is Michael leading the charge against hell, or what?”

“Oh, that.  No.”  She waved a hand dismissively.  “Old news, Sammy.  The story of the morning is, how many angel children does it take to restore an earth garrison filled with heavenly soldiers?”

Sam pushed himself up, but he let his head fall back against the headboard and closed his eyes.  “Will you make more sense if I drink the coffee?” he wanted to know.

“It’s not that kind of coffee,” Gabriel told him.

His lips quirked again, and he reached out without opening his eyes.  When his hand hit the table he did roll his head to the side, watching his fingers close around the cup, and she added, “Michael got his Dean back.  Cas got his own garrison.  Anna’s soldiers are back on earth, and it looks like hell won’t be rising today.  You want a paper?”

Sam smiled, lifting the cup to his lips.  “Will that be in it?” he asked.

Gabriel snapped her fingers again.  The folded paper on Sam’s lap bore the headline: HELL DOESN’T BREAK LOSE.  Sam glanced at it, taking another sip of coffee as he flipped it over.  Gabriel kind of loved him for it even as he huffed a laugh at the secondary headline: REBEL ANGELS SAVE WORLD With Help From Winchester Brats.

“This is good coffee,” Sam remarked.  His eyes scanned rapidly over the page, because of course Sam would read it.  “Did you make this?”

Gabriel stared at him, and when she didn’t answer he looked up and rolled his eyes at her expression.  “I mean, is it yours, or did you copy it from somewhere,” he said.  “Thanks, by the way.  Why are you in my bed, again?”

 “Cas,” she said.  For once she could pass the buck, and she was going to enjoy it.

Sam’s skeptical expression was not entirely unexpected.

“It’s on page three,” Gabriel told him.  “You want breakfast?  I could go for some breakfast.”

“Where are the kids?” Sam asked, already unfolding the paper.  “They okay?”

“I told you,” Gabriel said.  “They’re in Montana.  Everyone’s fine.  Except you and me, who would be a lot closer to fine if we had food, so.  Either ask for something or be stuck with whatever I get you.”

“An omelet,” Sam said.  “With vegetables.  Actual vegetables, not olives and mushrooms.”

“Back in a minute,” Gabriel said.

She took the minute to tour the garrisons.  Lucifer wasn’t at Samael’s garrison, and she didn’t know whether that was good or bad.  Anael was at her own garrison, which had apparently been enough to restore the balance: as the angels fled for heaven, hell had spilled toward earth.  Now it was tipping back.

Zachariah wasn’t in heaven, though she could still hear him in the choir.  Castiel was in heaven, which would have been more of a surprise if he wasn’t a law unto himself.  A whole set of laws, now; the laws of nature, maybe.  She wasn’t going to break her brain figuring it out when even he had no idea what he was doing.

Raphael was also in heaven, but Michael was impossible to pin down.  She would trust that he was as much Dean as he ever had been, since otherwise she was pretty sure Castiel wouldn’t look so serene.  She’d let it go as long as Sam did.

Gabriel was back at the Roadhouse, halfway through an omelet by the time Sam made it downstairs.  She made Hanathel stop “fixing” the dragon ward while Emily chattered on about meerkats, which Gabriel thought did perfectly well in a cold climate as long as they never knew it was cold – apparently it was the “they” that was the problem.  Their lone meerkat was getting lonely.

Sam finished talking to Aramel and pushed into the kitchen, coming up short when he saw Gabriel standing over the stove.  He was dressed and clean-shaven and his surprise was sort of insulting, she thought.  What, did she just promise someone breakfast and then forget about them?  When that someone was Sam?

“Wow,” Sam said flatly.  “I really hope you were kidding about the pregnancy thing.”

Gabriel didn’t bother flipping the omelet, just rolled it smoothly onto the other side of the pan.  “I wasn’t, actually.”

Emily had stopped when Sam came in.  Now she got up, balancing her cup, plate, and notebook between two hands.  “I’ll just go, uh, eat out front,” she offered.

“Oh, hey, Emily,” Sam said.

“Hey, Sam,” she said, letting him hold the door for her.  “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem.”  As he turned back to Gabriel, he added, “I hope you’re kidding now.”

“Nope,” she said.

Sam just stood there, watching her turn the flame down and add more oil to the pan.  She poked one of the peppers back under the edge and pressed the egg down until it sizzled.  “You’re the Virgin Mary,” Sam said at last.

Gabriel rolled her eyes.  “Pretty sure that would make me Dean’s mom,” she said.  “And by extension, yours.  I like a good kink as much as the next person, but don’t you think that’s taking it a little far?”

“I read the newspaper article,” Sam said, bracing himself against the inside of the kitchen doorway.  He looked slightly more relaxed, leaning against it, but he couldn’t get any farther away from her and still be in the same room.  “How would you explain it?”

“Did you read the birth announcements?” Gabriel countered.  “Because I already explained it.  I wrote it down using very small words.”

“You’re not naming her Eve,” Sam said.  “Adam and Eve didn’t even have a mom.”

“They had a father,” Gabriel said.

Sam hesitated, but it didn’t last long.  “Cas is her father.”

“Cas won’t be her parent,” Gabriel replied.  “My bundle of joy, my choice.”  Flipping the burner off, she picked up the pan and scooped the omelet onto a plate.  “Want to help?” she asked over her shoulder.

There was no reply.  Gabriel turned around and made a face at his expression.  “Relax,” she told him.  “It’s not a test.  You still get the omelet even if you say no.”

“Gabriel,” Sam said.

“Oh, not this.”  She set the plate in front of the chair Emily had been using and tossed a knife and fork down beside it.  “Dean and Castiel do this all the time.  ‘Dean.’  ‘Cas.’  ‘Dean!’  ‘Cas!’  For crying out loud, stop saying my name.  I’m right here.”

“How the hell are you pregnant!” Sam exclaimed.  “You’re a warrior of God; how is that even possible!”

“Okay,” Ellen’s voice interrupted.  “I do need to be in the kitchen right now, so if this is a private conversation, you’ll have to move it somewhere else.”

“It’s not private,” Gabriel assured her.  “Sam was hungry, but now that I’m pregnant he doesn’t want me to cook for him.  It screws with his feminist sensibilities.  Probably should have made the omelet before I told him.”

“It’s not –”  Sam broke off, looking at Ellen.  “You can –”

“You want me to leave you alone?” Gabriel demanded.  “So you can do some manly processing?”

“You just asked me to help raise your next generation angel baby!” Sam snapped.  “I’m sorry if it takes me a second to get my head around the idea!”

“It’s not yours,” Gabriel said, rolling her eyes.  “It’s not even mine.  It’s an angel, all right, it just needs a little education and maybe someone to keep it from getting eaten by a demon the first time it picks up a sword.”

Sam and Ellen were both staring at her now, and Gabriel pointed at the omelet.  “If you’re not going to eat that,” she said, “I will.”

“Don’t eat my omelet,” Sam retorted.  “And stop calling the baby ‘it,’ that’s just creepy.”

“It’s not a baby,” Gabriel told him.  “It’s a separation of grace.”

“She’s a kid who likes toasted marshmallows and can recite Flutterby backwards!” Sam burst out.  “Her name was never Eve and you know it!”

“Just because Dean sees something doesn’t make it true!” Gabriel shouted back.  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your brother’s crazy in the head!”

“Leave Dean out of this!” Sam snapped.  “I’m tired of my whole life being determined by Dean!  What Dean heard, what Dean knows, what the hell crazy angel Dean’s had in his head the whole time!  Can I just have one thing that has nothing to do with Dean!”

Gabriel thought about it for a fraction of a second.  “Probably not,” she said.

Sam’s anger flared.  She could see it there, behind his eyes, and it wasn’t until after he didn’t say anything that she had time to wish she hadn’t, either.  He’d asked, so she’d answered.  It had hurt him.  It would have hurt her more if he’d said what he was so obviously thinking.

Since when did she have to learn restraint from a human?

“Sometimes,” Sam said, and the word was ground out from somewhere kinder than she knew how to be.  “It’s really hard to talk to you.”

Gabriel stared at him.  It didn’t come out anywhere near as sarcastically as she wanted it to.  “Thanks for trying.”

Sam lifted his hand, making a motion toward her that changed abruptly.  He stuffed his hands in his pockets, resettling against the doorframe.  Then he sighed, straightening up and walking over to her.  “Will you kick my ass if I try to –”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but his raised hand made it perfectly clear that he was going to touch her.  Gabriel didn’t move.  Ellen was going through the cupboards, ostensibly looking for something, but what did Gabriel care.  Sam put a hand on her shoulder, slowly, telegraphing every move as he leaned in and wrapped his arms around her.

 _The secret Sam silencer,_ she thought.  But if he wanted to shut her up by hugging her instead of telling her exactly what he thought about God’s word, then she was really okay with that.  Really okay.

“I wish I’d had a say in this,” Sam whispered in her ear.

“In what?”  She was pressed harder against him than he made it look, and the words were mostly lost in his shirt.

“In what?” Sam repeated.  He sounded incredulous and amused all at once.  The amused part probably boded well for her.  Not that she needed _him_ to be okay.  But if he was, she thought evolution’s next great adventure wouldn’t be quite so hard to face.

“In what, she asks.”  Sam’s mouth pressed against her temple: not quite a sigh, not quite a kiss.  “In the baby, Gabriel.  I wish I’d had a say in the baby.”

“You knew,” Gabriel pointed out.  If his stupid hugging was a weird human way of asserting control, he was going to have to kick the habit.  Which would suck.  She didn’t deny that it would suck.  “Dean told you.  I showed you.  You never said no.”

“No one ever asked me,” Sam said.  This time the breath over her skin was definitely a sigh.  “Maybe that’s not fair, maybe you’re right.  I did know.”  There was a pause, and she heard Ellen wonder why people put pens that didn’t work back in the drawer.  The trash was right there.

“I guess I was afraid that if I said something, you _would_ ask,” Sam said at last.  “And I didn’t know how to answer.”

“Oh, for –”  She pulled away, glaring up at him.  “Let me get this straight.  You want a say, but you have no idea what it is.  That about sum it up?”

“I want my opinion to matter,” Sam insisted.  He didn’t let her go, and she didn’t force him to.

“But you don’t know what your opinion is,” Gabriel said.

He made an uncomfortable face.  “No?”

“Fine,” she told him.  “Your completely unknown opinion matters.  It’s useless, because I don’t know what it is and neither do you.  But it’s important.  And if you ever figure out what it is, I’ll take it into account when deciding to let Castiel do whatever the hell he wants.  Oh, wait!”

Gabriel glared at him again.  “I can’t!  Cas already gave me the kid, and I didn’t get a choice either!  The only choice I get is who to tell and what to do about it, and in case it somehow got past your monkey brain, you’re at the top of both those lists!”

There was a clatter when Ellen slammed one of the cupboard doors, and for whatever reason, Sam smiled.  “Yeah,” he said, like he’d been waiting for her to point that out.  “I also get yelled at first, and I’m not sure why I find that reassuring, but I guess that’s just the kind of messed up I am.”

She tipped her head to one side, considering.  “The yelling does come with an omelet,” she said.

Sam’s smile widened.  “Yeah,” he repeated, lifting a hand to trace her hair behind her ear.  “I didn’t expect you to actually, you know.  Cook.”

“I cook,” Gabriel said.  “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, looking from her to his plate and back again.  “Sure looks like my business.”

“Whatever.  I’m just buttering you up.”  She stepped out of his grasp and added, “I’ll eat with you, but don’t expect me to cook mine too.  It takes forever.”

Sam laughed, bracing a hand on the counter.  “If you’re buttering me up for something bigger than the kid thing, I’m gonna need pancakes too.”

Gabriel snorted.  “After omelets I go straight to buffet.  Trust me, bigger than this and you won’t have to ask for pancakes.”

He got them anyway, because what was she, stupid?

They at least did Ellen a favor and got out of the kitchen.  Which Gabriel didn’t turn into a buffet, however temporarily.  She didn’t need Sam to spend all day waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“That was a yes, by the way.”  Sam had started to collect their dishes when they were done, and Gabriel gave him a look.  When he held up his hands, she snapped the dishes clean and away.

“You were saying?” Gabriel said.

“Yes,” Sam told her.  “In case it wasn’t clear, yes.  I do want to help.”

“With Eve,” Gabriel said.

“Her name is Maia,” Sam said.  “Stop calling her Eve.”

“We could name her Eve instead,” Gabriel pointed out.  “Who came up with Maia?  You don’t know.  It could be totally random.”

“It’s not random,” Sam said, sounding serious enough to give her pause.  “My mom liked the Pleiades, okay?  The seven angels.  Maia was the oldest daughter.”

Gabriel studied him.  “How do you know that?”

Sam shrugged uncomfortably.  “Dean had a book, when we were younger.”

She didn’t say anything, and Sam sighed.  “He used to read it to me.  Stories about the stars.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Sam, I’m sure you know plenty of astronomy.  I’m asking about your mom.”

“I’m telling you about my mom,” he said softly.  “I used to sneak it out of Dean’s bag when he went to get snacks or whatever.  It belonged to our mom.  It had her name in the front, and she’d drawn the constellations in at the beginning of the chapters.  The story about the Pleiades was the only one where the stars were all labeled.”

Probably because it was one of the only constellations where all the stars mattered.  It was the only thing Sam had ever told her about family that wasn’t Dean, though, so she kept her opinion to herself.  Out loud all she said was, “Granddaughter of Gaia and Aether.  It’s got some history.”

“Maia?” Sam said.  Hopefully.

“No, Rover,” Gabriel snapped.  “If you want to call her Maia, just say so.”

“I want to call her Maia,” Sam repeated obediently.  Then he added, “But if you’re so set on Eve, I’m not against a middle name.”

“If you give her your last name,” Gabriel said, “her initials will spell ‘mew.’”

Sam opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“It wasn’t that funny,” Gabriel said after a moment.  “Do you have a cat phobia or something?”

“I didn’t think about her having a last name,” Sam blurted out.  Then he was quiet for a few very long seconds, until finally he shook his head.  “Can we... not talk about that, right now?”

Gabriel shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  I’m gonna go find Jesse.  Our wards are screwed.”

“Gabriel,” Sam said.  “When are you –”

He seemed to get distracted by something halfway through, and Gabriel couldn’t read his mind.  She waited impatiently, but Sam just looked up at her and waited, like he thought he’d finished.  “What?” she demanded at last.

“How long do we have?”  He sounded just as impatient.  “Before –?”  He gestured at her, and it was clear that he thought he didn’t have to say it.

Gabriel just stared at him.

“Maia,” Sam said.  “The kid?  The bundle of joy?  How long?”

“Until she’s corporeal?”  She was going to have to teach Sam some other languages if that was the best he could do with English.  “Beats me.  Little Cas says his garden’s growing in fits and starts, so your guess is as good as mine.

“Not really,” she added, when he raised an eyebrow.

“So guess,” Sam said.  “A week, a month, a year?  The rest of my life?”

“Probably not the rest of your life,” Gabriel said.  “Say a year.”

Sam eyed her with justifiable suspicion.  “Did you just make that up so I’d stop asking?”

“Yes,” she said.  “If I knew, I would have told you already.”

“Okay.”  Sam gave her a sideways look that wasn’t justified at all.  “Fine.  What’s wrong with the wards?”

“Cas brought Dean through them this morning,” Gabriel grumbled.

“He changed them?” Sam asked.  “After you locked Michael out?”

“He ignored them,” Gabriel said.  “Crashed through them like he didn’t even notice.  Given Dad’s apparent fondness for our young friend, I’ll assume he’s the only one who could do it.  Accidentally or otherwise.  But doing it at all messed them up pretty bad.”

“Can I help?” Sam wanted to know.

“No,” Gabriel said.  “Jesse might, though.  Gonna check in with Anna, see if he’s around.”

“Tell her to have one of the kids call me,” Sam said.  “If they’re not back here by tomorrow morning, they’ll miss another day of school.”

Gabriel eyed him.  “Seriously?”

“Fine,” Sam said.  “I’ll call her.”

 _Anael,_ Gabriel thought.  _Sam wants to know if the kids will be back for school tomorrow._

 _Why are you asking me?_ she replied.  _I haven’t seen them since they blew through on their way back from heaven._

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.  _Their way_ back _from heaven?_

“What?” Sam asked, obviously catching enough of his expression to know it was interesting.  “Which one of them are you talking to?”

“Anna,” Gabriel said.  “She says the kids aren’t with her.”

 _They went to find Cas,_ Anna replied.  _I think they were headed for hell next.  They said Cas told them they could go._

 _All of them?_ Gabriel demanded.

Her affirmative was largely overridden by Maribel’s arrival at the Roadhouse.  Her return made something in Gabriel’s head hurt less, an ache she’d completely ignored until the welcome of the wards soothed it enough to be noticeable.  The tiny angel stepped out of the coat room a moment later, glancing around in a very human facsimile of curiosity.

“Maribel,” Sam said, pushing his chair back.  “Are you okay?”

“Hi, Sam,” Maribel replied.  “I’m well, thank you.  How are you?”

“Yeah, great,” Sam said.  “What about Adamel and Wildfire?”

“They’re well, too,” Maribel agreed.  “And the rest of the garrison?”

This was ridiculous and Gabriel saw no reason to listen to it.  “You know how the garrison is, you’re part of the garrison; tell us what you were doing in hell!”

“I’m not part of the garrison,” Maribel said.  “It only takes an extra second to be polite, Gabriel.”

Gabriel pointed at Sam.  “I blame you for this.”

“I’m –”  Sam seemed taken aback too, but he looked from one of them to the other before concluding, “You’re welcome?”

“I heard you need a bodyguard,” Maribel said.  This time it was all too clear she was addressing Gabriel.  “I volunteered.”

“ _You_ need a bodyguard,” Gabriel snapped.  “You’re in kindergarten!”

“Are you volunteering?” Maribel replied.  “Because that would be really convenient.”

Gabriel scoffed.  “Hell no!  Where’s your dad?  What’s he say about your latest career choice?”

Even before she’d finished the question, she knew she shouldn’t have bothered.  Because _of course_ Castiel approved.  Why wouldn’t he?  Maribel was defending her younger sister, after all.

“He told me you needed someone,” Maribel said, confirming her suspicion.  “If you’d rather have Wildfire, I understand.  Jophiel isn’t so angry with you anymore, and she says it’s okay.”

“I’d rather have no one!” Gabriel exclaimed.  “Thanks not at all!”

“Take the kid, Gabe,” Michael’s voice advised.  “Trust me when I say arguing with family gets you exactly nowhere.”

“Dean?” Sam asked, even as Gabriel rolled her eyes.  He sounded cautious.

“Hi Daddy,” Maribel said.  “How are you?”

Gabriel groaned.  “Not this again.”

“I’m great, kiddo.”  It was nominally aimed at Maribel, but he was looking at Sam when he said it.  “Congratulations on keeping the garrisons alive.  Gabriel’s gonna be tougher, but hey.  Cas tells me I should have faith.”

Sam was staring back at Dean while Maribel chirped happily, “We can do it.  We’ll have help.”

“You can help yourself to not ‘guarding’ me,” Gabriel told her, disgruntled that all Sam’s attention was being held by Dean again.  Or Michael.  Whoever.  Sammy’s anti-angel psychic blindness seemed to have a big old hole where Michael became Dean, and she didn’t appreciate that they could read each other’s minds just by looking.

“You’re okay?” Sam was asking.  “Where’s Cas?”

“Heaven,” Dean said.  “And I’m fine.”

“You gonna stay that way?” Sam wanted to know.  “What’s he doing in heaven?  His kid’s down here.”

“My guess?” Dean said with a shrug.  “Running the place.”

Gabriel snorted.  “Like he’d know what to do with it,” she said.  “Face it.  Dad chose Cas because he didn’t want it.”

They were both staring at her now, and that was at least an improvement.

“Since when do you talk about God like he’s still around?” Sam wanted to know.

“Since when do you care?” she retorted.

Sam looked at her like she was stupid.  “About you?” he said.  “Or God?”

“Is this a private conversation?” Dean wanted to know.  “Because, news flash: you’re standing in the middle of a public place.  Also, Ellen’s tired of having us here but she’s too much of a hunter to say anything.  Cas thinks he can clear our names if we want to start over.  And those fans?  Becky’s doing a coffee thing, or whatever, so.  Stay out of town tonight.”

To Michael, that probably seemed like nothing, but Gabriel saw Sam blink at the onslaught of random information.

“Start over?” Sam repeated.

Or maybe Sam had gotten all of it, just like that.

“Yeah.”  Dean shoved his hands into his pockets.  “You could, you know.  Go back to school or something.  If you want.”

Sam let out a little laugh.  “Yeah, right.”

“You can,” Dean insisted.  “I mean it, Sammy.  I know this isn’t what you wanted.”

Gabriel glared at him, but if Dean was paying any attention to her, he didn’t give any sign.

“It wasn’t,” Sam said.  “Now it is.  You think I’d still be here if I didn’t want this?”

“Yeah,” Dean said roughly.  “You would.  ’Cause I guilted you into it, just like Dad always did.  We needed you, man; you always knew that.  You always had that hanging over you.”

“And I left anyway,” Sam told him.  “I ditched, I ran away.  I took off when I turned eighteen.  I left when I wanted to, Dean.  I’m not leaving now.  That should tell you something, right?”

“That we need you more now,” Dean muttered.

“Never stopped me before,” Sam said quietly.  “I had to try it.  I had to try being normal.”

“Well, now you can,” Dean said.  “We got this.  Go... find yourself, or whatever.”

“Dean,” Sam said.  “I did.”  He held his hands out to the sides.  “Here I am.”

Now Dean did look at Gabriel, and it was unnervingly and intensely apologetic.  “Sorry, dude,” he said.  “It’s only gonna get weirder from here.  And it’s gonna get harder to get out.”

“Which of us are you talking to?” Sam asked, his voice careful and even.

Dean was still staring at Gabriel, so she looked away.  She’d already made her decision.

“Both of you,” Dean said.  His gruff tone was strangely gentle.  The way Michael only sounded when no one else was listening.  Gabriel didn’t know what it meant that hearing Dean like this didn’t seem to surprise Sam, either.

“Look,” Sam said.  “I can’t speak for Gabriel.  Obviously.  But I don’t want out.  Whatever happens, I’m in this for good.”

“Even if ‘for good’ means longer than you’re alive?”

Gabriel didn’t have to look at him to know that Michael wanted to make sure Sam understood.  He was dealing with angels now.  If he thought he wasn’t getting any rest now... there were no guarantees that death would change anything.

Sam let out his breath in a huff that Gabriel couldn’t interpret.  “Dean, I don’t remember the last time I thought dying meant going to heaven.  I’ll be happy if I don’t end up stuck in hell for all eternity.”

“No offense,” Dean said, “but ‘probably won’t send me to hell’ is a lousy reason to do anything.”

“Yeah, well, ‘probably will send me to hell’ is worse,” Sam retorted.  “And you’ve used that one a couple of times.”

“Not this time,” Dean said.

Sam didn’t look away.  “I’m not going anywhere, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes.  “Fine, whatever.  Gabriel, last best chance to get out of garrison life.  Take it or leave it.”

“Screw you,” Gabriel snapped.

“Right,” Dean said.  “So.  Before you fix the wards, you know we’re gonna need a new base.  The kids need an actual house if they’re gonna stay in school, which Wildfire couldn’t care less about but Maribel and Adamel actually seem to like.  Go figure.  And Anael says she’s willing to trade Jo and Sach back, if you want them.

“Anna,” Dean amended, before either of them could answer.  “I guess she misses Hanathel.  And Jo’s over the whole wanting to kill you thing – shortest grudge in the history of angels – so, hey.  Think about it.”

“I want Sach back,” Sam said.

Gabriel waved a hand irritably.  “Like I care.  But don’t think the anti-goddess wards can be redone just anywhere.  Not unless we’re gonna convene another army of archangels and mess up history all over again with that forward and back timeline protection thing.”

“What about you?” Sam asked, apparently willing to be distracted.  “The broken wards are messing you up, aren’t they.  What do we do about that?  Can you even change bases, with the...”  He glanced around like the wards might answer his question without him having to say it.  “The way you are, here?”

She rolled her eyes.  “I’m not stuck to the building.  I’m just saying, that ritual isn’t something you want to be doing every week.”

“There’s a lot of people who are gonna be pissed if we make them drive all the way out here again,” Dean remarked.

Gabriel narrowed her eyes at him, but Sam got to it before she could.

“We could probably modify that part,” he said.  “Right?  I mean, that was an accident, and it wasn’t... we don’t really need it for the ritual, right?  If they’re all human?”

“It’s not meant to protect _them,_ ” Gabriel snapped.

“Okay,” Sam said, like that was a perfectly civil argument.  “So we can redo the ritual somewhere else if we have to.  What about you?  Do we need to fix the wards here before we kill them?  Do we need to kill them at all?  We do if they’re affecting you, right?”

“I’m not spreading my grace over the whole town,” Gabriel said.

“We can’t break the connection between you and the wards without fixing them first,” Dean said.

“ _You_ can’t break the connection at all,” Gabriel told him.  “We’ll need everyone who forged it in the first place.  And I won’t be strong enough to do it again for at least a week afterwards, so.  Make sure you get that truce in writing.”

“You won’t be strong enough?” Sam repeated.  “Does it hurt?”

“Of course it fucking hurts,” she retorted.  “It tears the grace out of my soul and nails it to a tiny piece of earth.  Feels fantastic.”

Sam’s expression was horrified, but Dean just said, “If I get Jesse to help you fix them, will the wards stop annoying you to the point of yelling at everyone, or is that just a thing you’re doing today?”

“Where do you think I was going when you showed up?” Gabriel demanded.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Dean said.  “Maribel, you got a bead on Jesse?”

Maribel had made her way over to Emily and looked more interested in playing with the meerkat than in helping Gabriel do anything.  But the strongest wards were there to defend her, and she didn’t disappoint.  “He’s at Samael’s base with Adamel,” she said.  “They’re going to have a party for Anael.”

“Oh, yeah?”  Dean exchanged glances with Sam, and Gabriel had no idea what for since Sam couldn’t possibly know anything about it.  “It’s gonna have to be some party.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, but all he said was, “Anna’s been burned by heaven too.”

“Did you read the whole paper?” Gabriel blurted out.  She was pretty sure the split between Anna and Samael had been buried in the “Friends & Neighbors” section behind the comics and the movie listings.  She hadn’t left Sam alone that long.

Sam gave her a look like he didn’t know why she was asking.  “Of course,” he said.

“That was cool, by the way.”  Dean sounded grudging.  “Thanks for filling him in.”

“Whatever,” she muttered.  It didn’t explain how Dean had known, but she was tired of picking apart their stupid symbiotic consciousness.  “I’m gonna go find Jesse.”

No sooner had she finished speaking than Maribel was at her side.  Holding the meerkat, which didn’t seem to bother Emily any.  “I’m ready,” she said.

“So?” Gabriel said.  “Be ready.  What do I care.”

Except that when she touched down in Australia, Maribel was still beside her.  With the meerkat.  Looking totally unruffled, even her little girl curls shiny and well-groomed.  Gabriel tried not to wonder who’d taught her to fly like that, because if she thought about it she knew someone would tell her.  “Why are you following me?” she demanded instead.

“Don’t be stupid,” Maribel told her.  “You’re carrying my father’s child.  You can either let me protect you, or I can make your life miserable.  It won’t be both.”

Gabriel wasn’t convinced, but they weren’t going to argue about it.  Not now.  Certainly not here.

She recruited Jesse instead, and she refused to think that Maribel’s presence had anything to do with the boy’s easy assent.  Once the wards were fixed, the kids wouldn’t make her so crazy.  As it was, the broken edges were dragging over her awareness no matter where she went, and it was more than a little distracting.

“Gabriel!” Sam called, sticking his head out the front door when he saw them starting in on the exterior.  “The house.  Do you care what it looks like?”

The house.  The one Dean thought the kids needed?  The base?  The site of Sam’s future domestic bliss?  What the hell house were they talking about?

“Are you even paying attention?” Jesse demanded.

“What house?” she shouted back.

 _What house?_ she asked Michael silently.  Why couldn’t she read Sam’s mind?

 _Because he’s a psychic freak,_ Dean’s voice replied.  _How should I know what house?_

“Our fake kid house!” Sam called back.  “AKA the new rebel base.  No Hoths; I get veto power.  Do you want it too, or do you not care?”

“We’re working, here,” Jesse said, raising his voice.  “Is this important?”

“Of course I want veto power,” Gabriel said.  “Why would you even ask that?”

“Because you have your own house,” Sam said.  “What do you care about ours?”

“I can come back,” Jesse told her.

“Look, brat, my kid’s dad is not asking me to move in with him,” Gabriel snapped.  “In fact, he’s basically suggesting he’ll never live with me at all, and I didn’t sign up to be a single parent.  I think the wards can wait for two seconds!”

Jesse eyed her skeptically.  “You have a kid?”

Maribel let a little melted snow trickle into the desert bubble she’d put over the parking lot for the meerkat to play in.

“I already live with you,” Sam said, stepping carefully through the door and glancing around like he could see the aberrant temperature in the air.  “What does what the base looks like have to do with it?”

“I can make a base!” Gabriel exclaimed.

“Yeah, I know.”  Sam gave her an odd look.  “So can Michael.  That’s why I asked if you care what it looks like.”

“Can I help?” Maribel asked, suddenly interested.  “It’s so that we can have friends over, right?  Can we have a pool?”

“Yeah,” Sam said.  “Sure.”

“Okay, maybe you didn’t get this because I’m such a warm, sharing person,” Gabriel said, “but I don’t let everyone and their daughter redesign my house!”

Sam gave her an odd look.  “You don’t let anyone _in_ your house.  We’re designing the base.  You get as much say in that as anyone, but it does have to be kid-friendly.  _Human_ kid friendly,” he added, like that wasn’t obvious.

“No.”  Gabriel was done with this charade.  “You want a human house, get a human house.  We are not letting little kindergarten playdates ran rampant through an angel garrison.”

“It has to look like someone lives there,” Sam argued.

“It has to not look like people prepare for war there,” Gabriel retorted.  “Lucifer’s an archangel; he can make the thing look lived in.  Make him supervise playdates.

“I can’t believe we’re talking about playdates,” she added irritably.  “They’re not actual children!”

“I can’t believe you think Lucifer should _supervise_ playdates,” Sam said.  “They’re getting the human experience, okay?  Think of it as a cultural exchange program.”

“I’m trying not to think of it at all,” Gabriel ground out.  “Why do they get a house and I don’t?”

Sam stared at her.  “You have a house!”

“You’ve heard!  Have you ever seen it?  Tell me you wouldn’t freak out if I took some kid you were helping to raise there!  You can’t even find it!”

“If I thought you wanted a real house,” Sam said with a sigh, “this would be a lot easier.”

“I do want a real house!” Gabriel exclaimed.  “You don’t get to name my kid and then move into some commune somewhere!  Not that I have anything against communes, actually.  We could do that.”

“Um, okay,” Sam said.  “So – wait.  You want... a house?  Like, an actual human house?”

“No,” she said.  “I want a place I can go that you can follow.  I want a place I can put a kid for the tiny fraction of its life that it’s kind of defenseless and not have humans tripping over it and angels giving it swords.  No offense,” she added, glancing at Maribel.

Maribel shrugged.  “I’m not defenseless.”

“Families have houses,” Jesse said.  “It’s not like you couldn’t connect them to the base.  Or commute, or something.”

“Michael,” Sam said.  “About the base thing.”

That was all it took for Dean to suddenly be standing there with them.  “Yeah,” he said.  “Gabriel getting cold feet?”

“Actually –”  Sam shot her a look that made her feel supremely uncomfortable.  “She wants her own place.”

“Someplace that’s not the garrison?” Dean said.

“Hello, I have plenty of places,” Gabriel interrupted.  “But I, unlike some people, keep my home life separate from my work life.  You can’t make the new base your daycare center.”

Dean snorted.  “Sure I can.”

“Dean,” Sam said.  “Come on.”

“What?” Dean wanted to know.  “They’re not children.  They belong with a garrison.”

“Yeah, well, their fellow kindergartners don’t,” Sam said.  “If they’re seriously going to have friends over, do you really want them wandering into a war room by accident?”

“We don’t have a war room,” Dean said.

“We could,” Sam said.  “If we weren’t worried about five-year-olds walking into it.”

“You want the kids to have their own house to play human in?” Dean asked.

“Why not?” Sam said.  “Save us all the trouble of pretending to be normal most of the time.  Believe me,” he said, with a half-smile that Dean seemed to understand.  “That gets old fast.”

Now Dean was looking at her, and Gabriel couldn’t read Sam but she could read Dean just fine and he was agreeing _._   “This means you want veto power on the base,” he said.

“Hell yes,” Gabriel snapped.

“Fine,” Dean said.  “But Sam and I are making the kids’ house.”

“And me!” Maribel said.

“And the kids,” Dean said.

“I want my own kid house,” Gabriel said.

Dean shrugged.  “Knock yourself out.”

“I’m making it,” Gabriel added.  Just to be clear.

“Really none of my business,” Dean said, glancing at Sam.  “But most people ask their big gay life partners before they go and design a house.  Word to the wise.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, who grimaced back.  “Oh, shut up.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth quirked, and Gabriel hated them both.  “How does Cas feel about your brother being your soulmate?” she asked spitefully.

Sam blinked, but Dean just rolled his eyes.  “You’re hilarious,” he said.  “We done here?”

“Do you want help with the wards?” Sam added, looking from her to Jesse.

“I want you to stop _not_ helping,” Jesse said.  “Does that count?”

“Sure thing,” Dean said.  He sounded suspiciously cheerful.  “Come on, Sammy.  Let’s go build us a house.”

She felt Sam looking at her before they disappeared.  She had better things to do than compete with his stupid brother, and it wasn’t like he tried to stay.  She contented herself with snapping at Jesse, who at least didn’t look betrayed when she said things that were a little too true, and eventually the wards stopped jabbing her under the skin every time she moved.  Overall, not a net loss.

Or so she told herself, until Sam found her that evening and the first words out of his mouth were, “Oh my god, you _are_ sulking.”

Gabriel didn’t look up from the sudoku cube Adamel had left behind on the bar.  “I am far too awesome to sulk,” she told it.  “If I were sulking, I’d be doing it so well you’d never have the chance to see it.”

“Well, good,” Sam said, sitting down next to her.  “I’m glad you suck at sulking, because otherwise how would I invite you to Samael’s party?”

“I don’t suck at sulking,” Gabriel reminded him.

“Right, whatever,” Sam said.  “Party?  You want to go?”

“You could get Michael to fly you there,” she muttered.

“O-kay,” Sam said.  “This thing where you’re jealous of Dean is weird and totally uncalled for.”

“He can read your mind,” Gabriel complained.

Sam snorted.  “I hope not.  That would have made sharing a room our entire lives kind of awkward.”

“I want to be able to read your mind,” Gabriel said.

“Well, join the club,” Sam said.  “I want to be able to hear angel radio, but it looks like the magic fairy isn’t granting wishes today.  You’ll just have to use actual words to ask questions when you want to know things.  The way I do all the time.”

“I want you to be an angel,” Gabriel said.

Sam breathed out in what sounded like amusement.  “I doubt that,” he said.  “You don’t even know most angels exist.  You like humans better, Gabriel.  It’s the worst-kept secret in the garrison.”

“I don’t know why I like you,” Gabriel muttered.

This time, Sam was quiet for a long moment.  “Yeah,” he said at last.  “I’ll buy that.”

She wasn’t sure she’d meant it to be a confession.  “Do you like me?” Gabriel asked, staring through the sudoku puzzle and wondering when the hell Adamel had started manipulating holographics.

“Yeah,” Sam said simply.

“Why?” she wanted to know.

“Because you try really hard,” Sam said.

Gabriel scoffed.  “You know what they say about the road to hell.”

“Yeah,” Sam said.  “It goes through Samael’s garrison.  You want to follow it?”

Gabriel stared at him.  “I can’t figure out if that’s the worst pickup line in the history of ever,” she said.

“Or the best?” Sam offered.  He was grinning in a funny shy way that she hadn’t seen in a long time.  Not since before Dean had died.  Before Sam had died, for that matter.

“Definitely not the best,” Gabriel said, but there wasn’t as much force behind it as she would have liked.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Sam teased.  “Takes the pressure off.”

“I’ll go to her party,” Gabriel said.  “As long as I don’t have to make nice with anyone there.”

“Would you make an exception for me?” Sam wanted to know.

“Maybe,” she said.  “What’s my incentive?”

“Reciprocity,” Sam said.

“Now you’re speaking my language,” Gabriel told him.

She wanted to know about the house.  The base was common knowledge in the choir, and she’d been tracking its progress idly throughout the day.  The kid house was much lower profile, almost subtle – if they could call anything Michael did “subtle” – and if she hadn’t known they were originally supposed to be the same thing, she would have thought they timed the one project to overshadow the other.

Moreover, neither of them had questioned her about _her_ project.  She couldn’t decide if that showed respect or disinterest, and she was further at a loss when she tried to figure out which one she wanted it to be.  Since when did the messenger of God want other people to ask her what she was doing?

“What are you thinking?” Sam asked quietly, and it occurred to her that they were just standing there, on the beach, watching the glow of excited angels flit back and forth.

“Wondering where Maribel is,” Gabriel said.

“Bullshit,” Sam replied, no change in his tone.

Gabriel tried not to smile.  “It’s like you know me or something,” she muttered.

“I’m trying,” Sam said evenly.

“You’ve been keeping the house pretty quiet,” Gabriel said.

“Really?”  Sam got it right away.  “That’s what you want to know about?”

Gabriel shrugged.  “You asked.”

“I want to see your house,” Sam countered.  “We should trade.”

“And miss Anna’s base-warming party?”  Gabriel feigned surprise.  “What would the neighbors say?”

“They’d say it’s not really a base-warming party if it’s held at someone else’s base,” Sam said.

That was when Maribel made herself known.  “You called?” she said.  “Sorry it took me so long.  I was doing more important things.”

Sam laughed at that, which was all that kept Gabriel from snapping her to the middle of the Atlantic somewhere.  “You don’t usually tell people that what you were doing was more important,” Sam offered.  “They can guess that from the fact that you didn’t come right away.”

“Oh.”  Maribel frowned.  “I thought it was polite to offer a reason for our tardiness.”

“Well, maybe a generic reason,” Sam said.  “If you think they care.  Some people, like Gabriel, really don’t.”

“What’s more generic than ‘I was doing more important things’?” Maribel wanted to know.

“Okay, not more generic than that,” Sam said.  “But maybe less... self-important?  It’s easier to bond with people if they think you’re dealing with the same stuff they are.  Like, if you say you got caught in traffic, or the weather slowed you down.  Or, at a party, you got caught up talking with someone and couldn’t get away.  People get that.”

“I see.”  Maribel considered this.  “How can you tell if someone cares about your reason or not?”

“They’ll pause,” Sam said.  “Like when someone asks how you are, if they expect you to answer they’ll make eye contact and wait a second?  If you say you’re sorry you’re late, they might look at you and wait for you to explain.  If they don’t, it’s better to just let them do the talking.”

“Oh, I don’t believe this,” Gabriel said.  “You’re teaching her to con people!”

“What?”  Sam frowned at her.  “No I’m not!  This is basic human interaction, Gabriel.”

“Yeah, if you haven’t noticed?” Gabriel said.  “Humans suck at basic human interaction.  You’re gonna turn her into a mini-you.”

“Says the archangel who impersonated a pagan god!” Sam retorted.  “Sorry, your opinion means pretty much nothing here.”

“Why?” Maribel wanted to know.

“Yeah, why doesn’t my opinion count?” Gabriel agreed.  “I was meting out justice.”

“I was saving people!” Sam exclaimed.

“No,” Maribel said.  “I mean, why did you impersonate a pagan god?”  She looked at Gabriel expectantly.

A smile was starting to take over Sam’s face.  “Yeah, Gabriel,” he said.  “Why did you impersonate a pagan god?”

“Because I’m just that awesome,” Gabriel told them.  “Oh, look.  Anna’s talking to Cas.  Time to go.”

She found Michael pretending to watch Jesse teach Adamel to surf.  He was ignoring every other angel on the beach, which had to be tough considering how incredibly bad they were at ignoring him in return.  But Gabriel was pretty sure he wasn’t seeing the surfing lessons, either.

 _That was rude,_ Maribel said in his mind.  _It’s rude to walk away from someone when they ask you a question._

 _It’s rude to ask people stupid questions,_ she retorted.

 _Sam says it isn’t a stupid question,_ Maribel told him.  _Sam says you didn’t start out to impersonate anyone.  He says being a god was the only way you could blend in on earth after you ran away from the angels.  But then you got lonely._

 _Tell Sam to quit making up stories,_ Gabriel replied.

 _I don’t think he’s making it up,_ Maribel said, after a noticeable pause.

 _He’s not,_ Michael’s voice said.  Dean hadn’t looked away from the water.  _We all need someone to talk to._

 _Oh, spare me your human platitudes._   Gabriel didn’t know why she listened to any of them.

“When you spare us your angelic bitching,” Dean muttered.

She glanced sideways at him, but he hadn’t put a hint of it out to the choir.  “Since when do you keep your insults to yourself?”

“Like the choir needs to hear every pissy thought that goes through my head.”  Dean kept his voice down, like someone might be eavesdropping over the sound of the ocean.  “The real question is, why do I say it at all?”

That wasn’t a question.  “Because your boyfriend likes your irreverent streak,” Gabriel said.  “Sweet little Castiel.  Never half the hammer as he was supposed to be.”

“Oh, he’s exactly what he’s supposed to be,” Dean said.  “It just wasn’t a hammer.”

“Says you,” Gabriel told him.

“Says him,” Dean countered.  “Turns out that’s what matters.”

“I hate your anti-destiny mumbo-jumbo,” Gabriel muttered.  “It’s like you think the universe is infinitely malleable.”

“Maybe I just don’t think anyone sees the universe that clearly,” Dean said.  “Maybe it’s not destiny I have a problem with; maybe it’s prophecy.”

“Well, speaking as the voice of the prophet,” Gabriel said, “screw you too.”

“What are you gonna name the kid?” Dean asked pointedly.

“Eve,” Gabriel said.

“Uh-huh.”  Now Dean just sounded amused.

“Unless Sam gets his way,” she grumbled.  “Which he probably will.”

“You show him?” Dean asked.

“None of your business,” Gabriel said.  Except of course it was.  Dean thought everything about Sam was his business.

“Huh,” Dean said.  “And he didn’t walk out this time?”

“He wants to see Pandora,” she said.

Dean snorted.  “Why doesn’t that surprise me.  The freak.”

“You’re the one who created a future for Zach’s pocket timelines,” Gabriel said.  “That’s way more creepy than visiting movie planets.”

“I didn’t create them,” Dean said.

“You just fixed them,” Gabriel finished.  “Yeah.  Cas said.  Still creepy.”

Dean didn’t answer.  Gabriel got the distinct impression that “fixing” other people’s messed up timelines wasn’t the only thing he’d been up to, and normally she’d care.  Most of the time she was actually interested in Michael’s deviant behavior.  There was nothing like the rebellion of the good son.

“You wouldn’t let me marry him,” she said abruptly.  “Right?  I mean, obviously.  You probably wouldn’t let anyone marry him.”

Dean hadn’t looked at her since she’d come to stand next to him.  “I don’t think Sam’s gonna ask my permission.”

Given that his older brother was heaven’s most ferocious archangel, Gabriel didn’t see what that had to do with anything.  “You’ve never let him do whatever he wants before.”

“I always let him do whatever he wants,” Dean said evenly.  “He’s human.  He gets that choice.”

“I’m not,” Gabriel said.

“Like that’s ever stopped you,” Dean said.

“ _You_ would stop me,” Gabriel told the ocean.  “If you don’t like it.  You’d stop me.”

“You mean you’d let me stop you,” Dean said.

“Sam would never be happy if you didn’t approve,” she said.

“Would you?” Dean wanted to know.

“Look, I know I’m not exactly what you want for him,” Gabriel said.  “I’ve got kind of a bad history with the family thing.  But it’s not like he’s got a lot of surviving family members either, and I think between the two of us we’ve lost pretty much everyone there is to lose.  Maybe that makes us less likely to turn on each other.”

“Great,” Dean said.  “‘Probably won’t kill spouse.’  You should put that on your application.  Or resume.  Whatever.”

“Intentionally,” Gabriel said.  “Probably won’t kill spouse intentionally.”

Dean quirked a smile at that.  “That’s so reassuring.”

“What are you gonna do with him when he dies?” Gabriel asked the water.  “You said it wouldn’t end for him.  You just gonna keep him alive indefinitely, like a vessel?”

Dean shrugged.  “He ain’t gonna die young, that’s for sure.”

“Again,” Gabriel said.

“Permanently,” Dean corrected.  “He can decide when he wants to go, and where.  And with who,” he added, still not looking at Gabriel.

“What if he wants to stay on earth?” Gabriel asked.  “Does he get a new body?”

Dean shrugged again.  “Up to him.”

Yes, Gabriel thought.  That was a yes: Michael was going to let Sam have whatever he wanted.

“What if he wants me?” she asked.

“Then you’d better not mess him up,” Dean replied.

She blinked.  “Wait – what?”

“Gabriel.”  Dean turned to look at her for the first time.  “What do you think I’m gonna do, here?  I don’t think anyone’s gonna talk Sam into marrying any time soon, and I know what you think about modern-day marriage rituals.  ’Til divorce do us part, and all that.”

“Is that why you’re fine with it?” Gabriel wanted to know.  “Because you think it won’t happen?”

“One, I’m not fine with it,” Dean said.  “You’re a jerk.  He’s a bitch.  I don’t know which one of you I feel more sorry for.  Two, it’s none of my damn business.  Sam is more than pig-headed enough to make up his own mind, and you’ve been making decisions for thousands of years.

“If you want my blessing,” he added, “you’ve got it.  But you don’t need it.”

“He’ll want it,” Gabriel said.  Glancing out at the ocean again, she muttered, “I want it.”

Dean didn’t scoff.  “You’ve got it,” he repeated.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

“There’s a farm out by the county line,” Dean said, following her gaze.  “Ellen’s husband used to know the woman who owned it.  Got a couple of buildings: house, barn.  Up on a hill.  Or as close as you get out there.”

“Sam doesn’t like farms,” Gabriel said.  “He’s a city boy at heart.”

“You know how much time he spends in cities?” Dean said.  “Ask him where he wants to raise kids.  I guarantee the answer’s not gonna be San Francisco.”

“Well, obviously,” Gabriel said, rolling her eyes.  “The fog there is ridiculous.”

“Ask him,” Dean told her.

Gabriel’s shoulder twitched.  “Whatever.”

Dean correctly interpreted this as agreement and said nothing else.  She couldn’t decide whether he’d been more or less insufferable without his memories.  She did wonder what he was planning to do with Cas.  If she had to ask permission, surely he wouldn’t smite her for making him do the same?

“Cas wants heaven,” Dean said quietly.  Like he was reading her mind, and damn them both, he probably was.  “He loves earth like Sam loves Palo Alto.  I won’t make him stay here forever.”

“He deserves better than us,” Gabriel told the ocean.

Dean let out his very human breath in a way that sounded... amused.  “Don’t I know it,” he said, and his voice was definitely smiling.  “But he’s gonna get what he wants.”  _Instead_ remained unspoken.  Gabriel wondered if Castiel had made Dean promise not to say it.

She figured that was as much of a vow as anyone really needed.

Sam was walking down to stand at the water’s edge, yelling to Jesse and Adamel.  His shoes were gone and his pants were rolled up.  He wasn’t wearing long sleeves for the first time in... since before Gabriel had seen archangels light up the sky for Dean Winchester.  Since before they had even met.  Gabriel was a little surprised to realize she’d never seen Sam in short sleeves.

Not now, anyway.  Not in this reality.

Someone had given him a board, which Gabriel was almost positive Sam didn’t know how to use.  But Jo was coming down the shore behind him, a similar board held awkwardly under her arm, and her obvious inexperience made Sam’s ease more startling.  She was accompanied by one of Samael’s angels, clearly used to the activity, and Gabriel grinned.  This should be hilarious.

“You seen him surf?” Dean wanted to know.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.  “He’s done it before?”

“Huh,” Dean said.  “So you only stalk him forwards through time?  You don’t go back and watch him at Stanford or whatever?”

“Why would I do that?” Gabriel wanted to know.

Dean actually laughed.  “That’s a great question,” he said, grinning out at the water where Jesse was shoving hard at his board, bare feet suddenly under him as he rose against the curve of the wave.  “I guess you’d have to ask Cas what the appeal is there.”

“That’s how he learned how to kiss you,” Gabriel said.  She wasn’t sure if she said it because she was annoyed that Dean knew more than she did, or if she was genuinely curious to know what he thought of illicit time travel.  She had always been careful not to let the Sam of the future know she was there.

“Yeah.”  Dean sounded, if anything, fond.  “I know.  I tried to explain it to him, but he just doesn’t get why it’s weird.”

“He does,” Gabriel felt compelled to point out.  “Or he wouldn’t have done it in the first place.”

“Nah,” Dean said.  “I think he just figures I had less going on back then, you know?”

“So you don’t mind,” Gabriel said, frowning.

“I don’t mind because he told me,” Dean said.  “Every time.  There’s a difference between being weird and being dishonest.”

Gabriel watched Sam and Jo, their boards laid out on the sand, practicing a leap that no one without wings should have to make.  Samael’s angel was watching too, bemused, and Gabriel looked for Adamel out of sudden curiosity.  Would he learn to use his wings in tandem with his board, or would he follow Jesse’s lead and force his human body to go it alone?

Adamel was already up, standing straight and almost bored-looking as he sailed along the front edge of a cresting wave.  His wings were loose at his back – if he was exerting any effort whatsoever, it didn’t show.  His hair didn’t even look wet.

Jesse, on the other hand, looked like an eel in the rise of the wave.  He pivoted like he was standing on dry ground and had just decided to turn.  He leaned, he slid, and he crouched.  He dragged his fingers and he leaned the other way.  He was drenched by spray and seemingly stuck to his board, flying like he didn’t know what it meant to fall.

Adamel tumbled off his board without a sound, the splash swallowed by the crash of the wave.  His head bobbed out of the foam a few seconds later, and he dragged himself to his feet.  He chased down his board without lifting his wings.  Instead of turning back, though, he waded toward the shore.

Where Sam and Jo were venturing in, along with the angel whose name Gabriel probably should know.

 _You don’t even know most angels exist,_ Sam had said.

“Who’s the angel with Sam and Jo?” she asked under her breath.  She figured if anyone would hear her, it would be Michael.

“Serithiel,” Dean murmured back.  He didn’t ask why she didn’t just ask the choir.  “One of Samael’s since she fell.”

Sam looked eerily confident at the edge of this primordial sea, and Gabriel tried not to wonder what else he was good at.  Dean’s lack of surprise made her sure that Sam would surf the way Jesse did: happily, with abandon and total dedication.  Well.  Maybe freakishly well, for someone so tall who spent most of his life driving through dusty midwestern plains.

When had _Dean_ seen him surf?

“I gotta go,” Dean said.  “Cas and Anna are awkwardly bonding over demon-killing, and somehow I don’t think that’s gonna go well for me.  You okay?”

“Sure,” she said.  “Awesome.”

“Yell if anyone starts to drown,” Dean said flippantly.  Then he was gone, wings and grace and secrets the choir would probably never know.  Loyalty.  The devotion to family spilling over into anyone he called his own – and was there anyone he didn’t, these days?

She thought if he could love like that, even with the inspiration for that love gone, maybe there was still hope for the rest of them.

Sam did surf with with enthusiasm.  He didn’t have Jesse’s easy skill after all, but he was good enough to catch waves and ride them, to turn occasionally and to yell encouragement to Jo when she tumbled off her board in one direction or the other.  Sam fell too.  When he went down it was considerably harder than Jo, but he came up every time, shaking hair out of his eyes and laughing and lunging for his board more often than not.

He hadn’t missed the fact that she was standing there watching them.  She’d thought about making herself invisible, but the whole point of going to a party was to actually, you know, be there.  Or so she was told.  When she heard him pray, though, she thought she’d probably been there too long.

 _Dearest Gabriel._ Sam’s voice sounded distant, even in her head.

And then nothing.  Just the beginning, and she could see him, standing up in the water on this side of the breaking waves.  Staring back at her, thinking hard enough to get her attention.  About nothing.

About nothing he would share, anyway.

Gabriel had lifted her hand in acknowledgment before she thought about the fact that everyone would see her.  That she would look stupid, waving to a human she could summon or snap to her or go to herself in less than a heartbeat.  That archangels didn’t _wave._

Sam lifted his hand and waved back.

 _You’re beautiful,_ he thought, a moment later.  _Amen._

Then he was turning back to the sea, long legs carrying him through the waves.  Jo was pulling her hair back for the dozenth time, yelling something to him that Gabriel could hear but didn’t care about.  Serithiel was out much farther, paddling like any other human, but her wings were stretched up like sails and Gabriel could see Adamel taking note from the shore.

She wondered if Sam had even meant for her to hear that.  Directed prayer wasn’t private, though it wouldn’t get anyone else’s attention unless they were listening for it.  Dean probably was.  Gabriel would have been, if it hadn’t been addressed to her.  Who else listened for Sam all the time?  Did it even matter?

Lucifer, she thought.  Lucifer probably listened for Sam all the time.

 _Jophiel would like to speak with you,_ Maribel’s youthful voice told her.

 _What are you,_ Gabriel demanded irritably.  _My secretary?_

 _They’re called personal assistants,_ Maribel replied.  _And you don’t need one.  I’m just passing on something Wildfire told me._

 _Well, Wildfire didn’t tell_ me, Gabriel said.  _And I think Jophiel can speak for herself._

 _Speaking to her first would be a gesture of good faith,_ Maribel said.

“Great,” Gabriel muttered to herself.  “I’m in ‘The Parent Trap’ and  I’m not even the parent.”

“I don’t know what the parent trap is,” Maribel said, appearing beside her.

“That’s because your cultural education is sadly lacking,” Gabriel said.  “Also, hasn’t anyone taught you it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

For a moment, Maribel looked like she was trying to remember.  “No,” she decided.  “I don’t think angels worry about that much.”

“What about humans?” Gabriel demanded.  “Aren’t they the ones teaching you the ways of the world?”

“Most of the humans I’m around tell me when they want me to listen and when they don’t,” Maribel said.

“That won’t last,” Gabriel said.  “Here’s a little tip: when humans are alone, they don’t expect you to be listening.”

Maribel frowned.  “Then why do they pray?”

“Because they’re deluded and masochistic,” Gabriel snapped.  “Go question someone else.”

“I hope you’re nicer to your daughter,” Maribel said.  The words were calm, even thoughtful, and she was gone without waiting to judge their impact.  Which meant it was possible that she was simply telling the truth.  There was no reason for it to hit Gabriel the way it did; she knew truth, she understood it.  She wasn’t nice.

Since when did angels need nice, anyway?

“Well, Sam,” she said aloud.  “Looks like you get to be the nice parent.”

She was paying very close attention, so she saw it as soon as Sam turned in her direction.  She groaned, because really?  What about that had been close enough to a summoning that the garrison link would prompt him to seek her out?  He hated that stupid summoning.

 _Dearest Gabriel,_ Sam thought.  He was paddling, angling for another wave as he thought, _What I’m doing is way more fun than what you’re doing, so I think you should be the one to come here.  Amen._

Oh, because normal angels negotiated when their partners said they wanted to see them.  Right.

Normal angels weren’t typically so handicapped, of course.  Or their partners weren’t.  Normal angels’ partners tended to be normal angels themselves.  

It wasn’t the first time she’d wished summoning had a cancel button... although usually it was Sam’s summons she wanted to cancel.

She waited at the edge of the water until she realized that he was actually coming in to meet her.  He’d caught a wave and made a short, sloping angle with the beach, falling off into water that had to be deeper than it looked.  And when he stood up again, he was plowing toward her, a grin all over his face and no annoyance for the interruption.

“Hey,” Sam called, when she took a few steps past the high water mark.  “You surf at all?”

“I surf light and wind and thought,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “What do I need water for?”

“Fun,” Sam said easily.  He swung his board like a tool, a prop, like he’d forget it was there if he didn’t keep going to gesture with his hands and finding them occupied.  “You wanna try?”

“No,” Gabriel said.  “I didn’t summon you on purpose.”

“Oh yeah?”  Sam’s smile turned thoughtful.  “Uh, we can do it by accident?”

“Apparently,” she grumbled.  “Oh, and Michael says we’re okay to get married.  FYI.”

“Yeah, great,” Sam said, his expression relaxing again.  She couldn’t even tell whether he believed her or not.  The true value of Sam’s poker face was that he didn’t look like he _had_ a poker face.  “Can I kiss you now?”

“Are you going to get me all wet?”  Gabriel gave him a look of entirely pretend distaste.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Sam said cheerfully.  But his hand was gentle when he laid it on her cheek, and though he dropped his board on the sand he didn’t come any closer than he had to.  He did lean down, pressing a cool kiss to her mouth, but it was all salty lips and damp skin and no other part of her got wet.

She snapped him dry anyway, as a matter of principle, but it didn’t overwhelm the fact that he’d clearly kissed people at the beach before. Or maybe at a pool party, or just after getting out of the shower.  She didn’t know, and suddenly she wanted to.  Why didn’t she know?  He was human, his life was like _that,_ she could absorb the whole thing and still have time left over to finish blinking.

“Can I go back and watch your life?” Gabriel blurted out.  “You know.  Just to give me a frame of reference.”

“I’d rather you asked,” Sam said, running his thumb over her chin.

“I am asking,” she said.  “I’m asking you right now.”

“I mean,” and Sam was smiling, “ask me about my life.  Instead of watching it all, just ask me.”

Oh, like that would be such a time saver.  “That takes a lot longer,” Gabriel complained.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed.  “It’s part of the bonding process.  Good things take time.”

“What is it about me that makes you think I’m a patient person?” Gabriel demanded.  “Is it the snapping thing?  Because I can see how that would confuse you, I really do, except that, oh wait.  I don’t.”

“Do you know how long I’m going to live?” Sam asked, lifting his other hand to frame her face.  He tapped her mouth with his thumb to emphasize his words.  “Not.  Very.  Long.  Don’t rush it.”

“That was a low, illogical, and emotionally loaded argument,” Gabriel informed him.  “I don’t like it.  Also, you’re gonna live a lot longer than you think.  Dean’s out for death next.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed, as though he’d heard something she didn’t say.  “What?”

“Figuratively speaking,” she corrected.  “The boy went to hell for you when he was human.  Now he’s an archangel.  I think he’ll find a way to keep you around.”

“Well, that’s...”  Sam hesitated, the fingers of one hand sliding back into her hair while the other caressed her neck absently.  “Vaguely disturbing, actually.  But that aside... we should probably talk.”

“We are talking,” Gabriel said.  “All we do is talk.”

“Well, it’s this or surf,” Sam told her, and despite the amusement on his face she couldn’t tell whether he was joking or not.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and propose a third option,” Gabriel said.

Sam raised his eyebrows at her, waiting.

“We could kiss more,” Gabriel said.  “I mean, I know you’re the sensitive one and you’re all about the heart-to-hearts, so I don’t want to cramp your style, but Sammy, I think you should consider the fact that some styles are meant to be –”

She stopped when Sam leaned in, but he didn’t actually kiss her.  He just hovered there, whispering in a voice no human would hear above the waves, “I love you.”

Gabriel closed her eyes.  Not because she needed to.  Out loud, without a second thought to the choir, she said, “I love you like the fucking sun.  And if you let me, I’ll love you a lot longer.”

She felt Sam’s breath huff against her face.  “You’re lucky I’m not scared of commitment,” he murmured.

“It isn’t commitment,” she told the stars that stretched behind her eyelids.  “It’s just...”  She looked for a way to explain what it meant to be an angel, then decided that if he didn’t know by now there probably weren’t enough words in the world.  “It’s just one of those things.”

Sam laughed, and she opened her eyes.  “Let’s go look at the house,” he said.  “And the base.  And your house.  Let’s just go and tour everything.  And you can ask me questions and complain that the answers are boring, and I’ll ask you questions and maybe someday I’ll understand the answers.  Some of them.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Gabriel said automatically.

Sam’s smile didn’t fade.  “I won’t.”

Gabriel eyed him suspiciously.  “It doesn’t piss you off when I say things like that?”

“Not today,” Sam said.  “Not making any promises about tomorrow.  Except that I’ll, you know.  Be with you to find out.”

“That’s a pretty serious promise,” Gabriel said.  Because she didn’t know how to not say it.  She could sometimes say something else instead, but it would twist on her as often as not.  Saying nothing had never been an option.

“One day at a time,” Sam said, bending down to pick up his board.  “That’s how we crazy humans do it, anyway.  I’m gonna take this back, okay, and then –”

“Is it rushing if I put it back for you?” Gabriel interrupted.

Sam stared at her so long she thought he was trying to irritate her until he said, “No.  I mean, yeah – that’d be great.  Thanks.  Thanks for asking.”

Gabriel snapped her fingers and the board was gone.  “So,” she said.  “Where are we starting our tour?”

They started the tour with her house.  Which she should have expected, really, because what did Sam care about what she didn’t know.  He probably thought it was “fair,” or some other black and white abstraction that was equally annoying and completely unrealistic.

“If you’re going to be all pissy about it,” he told her, “it’s not exactly fun for me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she snapped, folding her arms and trying not to notice that he stood exactly where she’d imagined him and touched all the things she thought he’d like.  “I wasn’t aware it was supposed to be fun.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sam said.  “You think everything is supposed to be fun.  Why don’t you like me seeing your house?”

“Because sometimes I see you in it,” Gabriel grumbled, “and it’s weird that you’re really here.  It makes me feel like maybe it isn’t happening.”

Sam paused, staring at her.  “That’s true, isn’t it.”

She rolled her eyes.  “I just said it, didn’t I?”

“Okay, wait,” he said.  “You see me here?  Like, fake me?  You imagine a fake me here in your house and you, like... talk to me, and stuff?”

Oh, he wasn’t going to like the “and stuff” part.  “Maybe,” she said.  “Not lately.”

“How lately?” Sam demanded.

“Not today,” Gabriel offered.

“Okay,” Sam repeated, still eyeing her.  “Is that... weird?  By angelic standards?”

“Yeah,” she said, because it wasn’t like she didn’t know.  “It’s pretty damn weird.”

Sam frowned.  “You know you could just, uh – talk to me.  Instead.  Right?”

“Right.”  She didn’t even look around this place that had been sacrosanct for longer than she cared to think about.  She knew every piece, every corner and crack and ghost that it held.  “Your crazy brother picked out a new place for us; did he tell you?”

“The farmhouse that belonged to Bill’s friend?” Sam said.  Who knew, maybe he thought this was her “talking to him.”  In which case she should get a free pass for at least ten minutes.  “With the barn and everything?”

“That’s the one,” she agreed.

Sam smiled a little, and yeah.  He was definitely giving her a pass.  “I always wanted to check out that hayloft.”

“How about now?” Gabriel suggested, fingers poised to snap.

“Sure,” Sam said.  “Let’s do it.”

Once they were there, though, Sam remarked that the loft was dangerous and the house was remote in case of emergency.  She just stared at him, because seriously?  What kind of emergency was he expecting that some backwards townspeople from hicksville were going to help him with?

“Do you hate farms?” she blurted out.  She didn’t know; why didn’t she even pretend to know this?

“What?”  Sam blinked at her, his complaint about the duck pond derailed.  “No.  I love farms.  I love this farm.  What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your –”  Gabriel waved a hand irritably.  “History, your... perfectly reasonable fear of people with pitchforks, I don’t know.  You’re the one complaining.”

“Oh.”  Sam still looked taken aback.  “I’m not complaining.  I’m just talking about what we’ll have to look out for, or change, or whatever.  When we get the house.  If we get the house,” he added quickly.

She didn’t know what to say to that, which was frankly embarrassing as a messenger of God, but hey.  You left your kids alone long enough, eventually they had to figure it out for themselves.  “Show me the new base.”

“Hey,” Sam said quietly.  “Do _you_ hate farms?”

“As self-indulgent as humans are,” she said, not looking at him, “sometimes, I’d rather not forget where we came from.”

Sam didn’t say anything for a moment, and who knew if he got it or not.  But then he said, “You know, I like this thing where you answer questions.”

Gabriel huffed in a way that was supposed to be dismissive but probably, if she admitted it, sounded a little too pleased.  “I always answer questions.”

“Okay,” Sam said, and she could tell from the smile that he knew how she’d really meant it.  “Then I like this thing where I sometimes understand what you’re talking about.  How’s that?”

“Better,” Gabriel agreed.  “Maybe you can be taught after all.”

His smile widened.  “Funny,” he said.  “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

 **Epilogue**

Sam did eventually show her the new base.  She complained as much as she thought she could get away with, given that she had actually been watching its construction all day.  Sam and Michael weren’t the worst combination when it came to designing a defensible location that had the most important comforts of home.

Okay, Sam had probably been responsible for the defensible part, and Michael had probably covered the comforts of home.  But if Sam could be taught, then he was going to have a very enthusiastic teacher.  Gabriel hadn’t spoiled anyone for a long time.  She’d missed knowing someone who deserved it.

“Psst,” Sam whispered, nudging her arm gently.  “Is that a thoughtful look I see, or are you talking to someone else?”

She raised an eyebrow at him.  “Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know?”  He cleared his throat, glancing around the empty room.  “It’s kind of weird here when there’s no one else?”

This, coming from someone who hunted ghosts, was a pretty flimsy excuse, and she refused to feel guilty for making him feel like he needed it.  Frowning, Gabriel muttered, “Why do I feel bad for embarrassing you when you’re the one who did something stupid?”

Unexpectedly, Sam smiled.  “It’s because I’m a younger sibling,” he said.  “Projecting innocence to trigger the protective instincts of those older and stronger than us is a defense mechanism.”

Gabriel stared at him, but Sam just stood there.  Looking innocent.

“Huh,” she said at last.  “Explains so much about my family.”

It wasn’t so much a smile on his face, she thought.  It was really more of a smirk.

“I was just thinking,” she said abruptly.  “How much fun it’s going to be to make you... less innocent.”

Sam’s expression didn’t change.  “You may not have as far to go as you think,” he teased.

“Yeah,” Gabriel said, rolling her eyes.  “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

He made her take them to the kids’ house after that.  Or she made him show her.  The fact that she wasn’t sure who was pushing whom was pretty typical of their relationship, she thought with a sigh.

“Okay,” Sam said, “now I know you’re talking to someone else.”

“Okay,” Gabriel mimicked, “I can’t hear your thoughts, either, but I don’t complain about it anywhere near as much as you do.”

“Oh, please,” he retorted.  “You complain way more than me.”

“In a _general_ sense,” she said, “I have way more to complain about, believe me.”

“You automatically lose that argument by being an angel,” Sam told her.  “Are you sure you care about the kids’ playdate house?”

“Are you sure letting them have playdates with human children isn’t a completely stupid plan?” Gabriel countered.

“It’s not the children I’m worried about,” Sam admitted.  “It’s the parents.”

“Sammy,” Gabriel said.  “Maybe you’ve managed to block out this part of your life, but there was a time when impersonating people with a variety of human experiences – ordinary and otherwise – was part of your daily routine.  I don’t think pretending to be a responsible parent is entirely beyond your capability.”

Sam gave her a look that was more amused than annoyed.  “I don’t know which part of that I should be most insulted by.”

“You could always ask Lucifer to play the responsible parent,” Gabriel said.

“Don’t laugh,” Sam said.  “He’s disturbingly good at it.  And just wait until someone sees you here and asks you which one’s yours, because don’t think that question won’t come.  They already think me and Lucifer are gay divorcees,” he added.  “I can only imagine what they’ll say when they see me with you.”

“They’ll say, what a lovely couple,” Gabriel replied.  “Then you’ll open your mouth, and they’ll realize the kids got both their brains _and_ their looks from me.”

“Don’t you mean from Cas?” Sam said pointedly.

She pouted at him, and the softening of his expression was unmistakable.  “You really want to confuse them more?” Gabriel asked.  “I’m not sure your parenting group can handle angel families.”

“Oh, trust me,” he said.  “Between the neighbors and the nannies and the neighbors who are nannies but not for their neighbor’s kids, step-siblings with custody rights, not to mention the people filling in for military parents, I have no idea who’s related to who at that school.”

“Great,” Gabriel said, unconcerned.  “We’ll fit right in.”

An odd look crossed Sam’s face, and she didn’t understand it until he said, “Well, that’ll be a first.”

“First doesn’t always mean worst,” Gabriel quipped.  Because join the club, right?  Who fit in anywhere in a godless world?  Not angels.

“Kind of hoping it’s the best,” Sam said, watching her with a small smile.

“Don’t set the bar so high,” she advised.  “It’s a long way down.”

“Don’t set yours so low,” Sam told her.  “You’ve got wings.”

She decided later that it was nowhere near the cheesiest thing he would ever say to her.  It wasn’t even the cheesiest thing he’d said so far.  On a list of the top one hundred, it didn’t make the back-up list.  For the back-up list.

It was still a piece of advice Gabriel would never forget.

  



End file.
